vy 


V. 
r 


%^^.^  ^^^ 


///<r 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2008  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fortyyearsonstagOObarn 


^ 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

OTHERS   {PRINCIPJLLr)   ^ND   MYSELF 


J.    H.     ISAUNES    (1874) 


J.    H.    BARNES    (1874) 


cr\.Ay-v^ 


FORTY  YEARS  ON 
THE  STAGE 

OTHERS  {PRINCIPALLT)  AND  MYSELF 


BY 

J.  H.  BARNES 


NEW  YORK 

E.    P.    BUTTON   &    COMPANY 

68i    FIFTH    AVENUE 

1915 


Priktkd   IK    Great    Britain    by 

Richard  Clay  &  Sons,  Limited, 

.bronswick  st.,  stamford  st.,  s.e,, 

and  bungat    suffolk. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


J.  H.  BARNES  (1874) 

JOHN  BARNES  OF  WATLINGTON  (OXON) 

J.    C.    M.    BELLEW       .... 


To  face  page 

.   Frontispiece 

3 
5 


AUGUSTUS  HARRIS  THE  ELDER  (STAGE  MANAGER,  COVENT 
GARDEN   opera)  ..... 

MISS    ADELAIDE    NEILSON  .... 

WILLIAM   TERRISS    (1872)  .... 

MRS.   WYNDHAM  AND  R.  H.  WYNDHAM  (OF  EDINBURGH) 

MRS.    SCOTT   SIDDONS 

H.    J.    (harry)    MONTAGUE 

CHARLES    MATHEWS 

THE  ORIGINAL  CAST  OF  "  THE  AMERICAN   LADY  "   WITH 
WHICH   THE    CRITERION    OPENED,    1874 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  CLAUDIO  ("MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE") 

SAMUEL    PHELPS 

SALVINI  .... 


^ 


^ 


J.     H.     BARNES     AS     SERJEANT    TROY 
MADDING  CROWD  ") 

MADAME    RISTORI       . 

J.    H.    BARNES   AS    INGOMAR 

MISS    MARY    ANDERSON   AS   GALATEA 

J.    H.    BARNES   AS    PYGMALION     . 


("  FAR   FROM   THE 


12 
19 
19 
28 
31 
33 
33 

40 
56 
67 
79 

134 
136 
145 
146 
147 


VI 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


J.   H.    BARNES    IX   "  A    PRISONER    FOR    LIFE 
FRED   ARCHER    (1885) 

CHARLES    H.    E.    BROOKFIELD    AS    TRIPLET 
MRS.    JOHN   DREW    AS    MRS.    MALAPROP 
EDWIN   BOOTH  .... 


To  fte«  pofft 

150 


158 
155 

190 
193 


J.   H.   BARNES  AS  MICHAEL  DENNIS  ("HER  ADVOCATE    ')      205 


J.  H.  BARNES  AS  HENTJERS  ("  PROFESSOR'S  LOVE  STORY  ") 

J.    H.    BARN"ES   AS  W.M.,  DRURY  LANE  LODGE,    NO.   2127, 
F.A.M.  ........ 

J.  H.  BARNTIS  AS  JOHN  PEERYBINGLE  (''  THE  CRICKET  ON 
THE    hearth'')  ...... 

J.    H.    BARNES    IN    "  THE    FINISHING    SCHOOL  '"         . 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  FATHER  DEMPSEY  (''  JOHN  BULL's  OTHER 

island")  ....... 

J.  H.  BARNXS  AS  ROEBUCK  RAMSDEN  ('*  MAN  AND  SUPER- 
MAN")       ........ 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  FATHER  JOSEPH  ("  RICHELIEU  ") 

SIR    JOHNSTON     FORBES-ROBERTSON    AS     HAMLET      AND 
J.    H.    BARNTIS   AS    POLONIUS  .... 


206 

244 

267 
269 

278 

280 
290 

806 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


I  THINK  I  hear  the  reader  say,  "  What !  another  actor's 
reminiscences  ?  "  and  I  am  fain  to  admit  that  there  has 
been  a  plentiful  crop  of  them  in  the  last  few  years.     Let 
me  hasten  to  give  my  reason  and  ask  excuse  for  adding 
mine  to  the  list.     In  some  articles   I  wrote  on  stage 
matters  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  a  few  years  ago,  I 
was  able  to  say  with  perfect  truth,  "  I  have  never  been 
interviewed.     I  have  never  inspired  a  paragraph.     I  have 
never  made  speeches,"  and  I  may  add  I  have  never  been 
photographed  except  at  the  request  of  my  manager  at 
the  time.     I  was  taught,  in  my  early  days  on  the  stage, 
that  the  actor's  duty  was  behind  the  proscenium,  and 
that  his  best  and  most  telling  pronouncements  were 
those  made  when  the  curtain  was  up.     In  that  faith  I 
have   lived   and   worked    earnestly   and   sincerely.     It 
is  an  old-fashioned  and  out-of-date  creed  in  these  self- 
asserting  days,  but  in  the  autumn  of  one's  career  it  is 
too  late  to  change,  and  it  follows  as  a  matter  of  course 
that  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  consider  their  lives, 
their  doings   or  their  thoughts   of   general   or  public 
interest.     But  in  my  forty-odd  years  on  the  stage   I 
have  been  brought  in  contact,  and  in  a  representative 


VI 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


To  fti.ce  'page 

J.   H.    BARNES    IN    "  A    PRISONER   FOR   LIFE  "             .             .  150 

FRED   ARCHER    (1885)           ......  158 

CHARLES    H.    E.    BROOKFIELD    AS   TRIPLET     .  .  .155 

MRS.    JOHN    DREW    AS    MRS.    MALAPROP            .             .             .  190 

EDWIN    BOOTH  .  .  .  .  .  .  .193 

J.   H.   BARNES   AS  MICHAEL  DENNIS  ("  HER  ADVOCATE  ")  205 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  RENDERS  ("  PROFESSOR'S  LOVE  STORY  ")  206 

J.    H.    BARNES   AS  W.M.,  DRURY  LANE  LODGE,    NO.   2127, 

F.A.M.         ........  244 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  JOHN  PEERYBINGLE  ("  THE  CRICKET  ON 

THE  hearth")           ......  267 

J.    H,    BARNES    IN    "THE    FINISHING   SCHOOL"         .             .  269 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  FATHER  DEMPSEY  ("  JOHN  BULL's  OTHER 

ISLAND") 278 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  ROEBUCK  RAMSDEN  ("  MAN  AND  SUPER- 
MAN ")        280 

J.  H.  BARNES  AS  FATHER  JOSEPH  ("RICHELIEU")            .  290 

SIR    JOHNSTON     FORBES-ROBERTSON    AS    HAMLET     AND 

J.    H.    BARNES   AS    POLONIUS            ....  806 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


I  THINK  I  hear  the  reader  say,  "  What !  another  actor's 
reminiscences  ?  "  and  I  am  fain  to  admit  that  there  has 
been  a  plentiful  crop  of  them  in  the  last  few  years.  Let 
me  hasten  to  give  my  reason  and  ask  excuse  for  adding 
mine  to  the  list.  In  some  articles  I  wrote  on  stage 
matters  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  a  few  years  ago,  I 
was  able  to  say  with  perfect  truth,  "  I  have  never  been 
interviewed.  I  have  never  inspired  a  paragraph.  I  have 
never  made  speeches,"  and  I  may  add  I  have  never  been 
photographed  except  at  the  request  of  my  manager  at 
the  time.  I  was  taught,  in  my  early  days  on  the  stage, 
that  the  actor's  duty  was  behind  the  proscenium,  and 
that  his  best  and  most  telling  pronouncements  were 
those  made  when  the  curtain  was  up.  In  that  faith  I 
have  lived  and  worked  earnestly  and  sincerely.  It 
is  an  old-fashioned  and  out-of-date  creed  in  these  self- 
asserting  days,  but  in  the  autumn  of  one's  career  it  is 
too  late  to  change,  and  it  follows  as  a  matter  of  course 
that  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  consider  their  lives, 
their  doings  or  their  thoughts  of  general  or  public 
interest.  But  in  my  forty-odd  years  on  the  stage  I 
have  been  brought  in  contact,  and  in  a  representative 


2        FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

capacity,  with  nearly  every  great  artist,  male  and  female, 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  and  it  is  of  them  I  propose 
to  write  principally.  In  short,  I  hope  to  make  my  own 
career  a  peg  on  which  to  hang  impressions  and  anec- 
dotes of  men  and  women  and  places  and  circumstances 
which  can  hardly  fail  to  prove  entertaining  reading  for 
many,  both  inside  and  outside  my  own  calling.  I  shall 
"  nothing  extenuate  nor  set  down  aught  in  malice  "  ! 

First,  then,  to  clear  the  ground  as  to  myself.  I  was 
born  in  the  little  old-fashioned  town  of  Watlington,  in 
Oxfordshire,  on  February  26,  1850.  In  this  quaint, 
old-world  place  with  its  genuine  Norman  Church  tower, 
its  genuine  Tudor  market-place  and  its  "  white  chalk 
mark  "  on  the  Chiltern  Hills  under  which  it  nestles,  I 
passed  my  childhood.  My  mother  died  when  I  was 
quite  an  infant,  and  under  the  loving  care  of  a  remarkable 
father,  and  a  dear  sister,  whom  I  helped  to  lay  to  rest 
only  three  years  ago,  I  led  the  ordinary  life  of 
an  English  country  boy.  In  speaking  of  my  father  as 
"  remarkable,"  I  do  not  think  I  am  over-stating  my 
case.  A  finer  specimen  of  the  best  yeoman  blood  of 
"  Old  England  "  (that  blood  which  has  done  so  much 
for  Britain  in  the  past  ages)  never  lived.  Upright, 
fearless,  kindly,  courteous  and  loving,  and  withal 
humorous,  he  was  indeed — 

"A  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again." 

Had  he  lived  at  the  right  time,  he  might  well  have  been 
the  original  of  the  line  in  Gray's  "  Elegy  " — 

"  Some  village  Hampden,  that  with  dauntless  breast." 
He  lived  respected  and  beloved,  and  died  regretted  by 


f"-:j   ^■ 


JOHN    BARNES    OF    WATLINGTON    (OXON) 

[To  iace  page  3 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE        3 

all,  and  it  often  occurs  to  me  that,  if  in  our  last  long 
sleep,  we  are  ever  permitted  to  "  revisit  the  glimpses 
of  the  moon,"  I  should  rest  a  little  easier  and  sleep  a 
little  happier  if  I  dare  hope  that  my  own  dear  son  will 
be  able  to  remember  his  father  in  the  same  way  that  I 
remember  mine.  There  was  plenty  of  grit  about  him, 
too ;  and  often  when  I  have  found  myself  stubbornly 
resisting  humbug  and  charlatanism,  of  which  the  actor's 
calling  presents  a  goodly  variety,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
I  inherit  some  of  my  good  father's  characteristics  in 
that  respect,  and  I  hold  to  my  tenets  all  the  more 
strongly. 

So  much  for  my  father.  I  make  no  apology  for  the 
enthusiasm.  If  the  expression,  "  a  nature's  noble- 
man," was  ever  justified,  he  was  a  notable  instance. 
For  myself,  I  went  to  the  only  really  fairly  good  school 
there  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  without  any  particular 
distinction  except  one.  I  had  quite  an  extraordinarily 
good  memory.  My  brother,  a  little  older  than  myself, 
had  frightful  trouble  with  his  lessons.  I  could  always 
study  mine  (and  be  quite  perfect)  on  the  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  of  road  that  lay  between  my  home  and  the 
school.  One  instance  of  this  is  perhaps  worth  relating 
as  strongly  bearing  on  my  future.  Our  master  was 
fond  of  poetry  and  recitations,  etc.,  and  we  used  to  have 
one  afternoon  every  second  week  devoted  to  such 
studies.     I  was  rather  known  as  the  Reciting  Boy. 

On  one  occasion  our  master  said  he  considered  that 
Milton  was  perhaps  the  finest  and  also  the  most  difficult 
blank  verse  to  commit  to  memory,  and  he  would  give 
a  special  prize  to  any  boy  who  would  commit  the  first 
book  of  Paradise  Lost  to  memory  within  the  term.     On 


4   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  eighteenth  day  from  the  time  he  said  it  I  repeated 
the  whole  of  the  first  book,  and  I  still  have  the  little 
school  prize  book  bearing  this  inscription  on  the  fly- 
leaf— 

"  Presented  to  John  Barnes  as  a  reward  for  his  com- 
pliance with  a  wish  that  he  should  commit  the  first  book 
of   Milton   to   memory — expressed   by   his   friend  and 

tutor, 

"  Joseph  Brothwood. 

"Christmas,  1861." 

Considering  that  I  was  then  eleven  and  a  half  years 
old  it  might  be  considered  an  achievement.  How  this 
memory  was  to  serve  me  in  after  years  in  the  career  I 
was  to  choose  for  myself  I  shall  have  more  than  one 
occasion  to  refer  to. 

The  agricultural  depression  that  set  in  in  Great  Britain 
about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  caused  by 
so  much  cultivation  of  food  products  in  other  parts  of 
the  world,  and  the  consequent  lowering  of  prices  of  the 
home-grown  articles,  caught  my  father  (amongst  many 
others)  in  its  toils,  and  "  times  "  became  bad  in  the  old 
home,  and  it  was  advisable  (indeed,  necessary)  for  me 
to  consider  what  I  was  going  to  do  for  a  living. 

Those  were  the  days  of  firm  apprenticeships  in  busi- 
ness, and,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  an  elder  brother, 
it  was  arranged  for  me  to  go  to  London  and  take  my 
place  in  a  business  house.  This  was  when  I  was  thirteen 
years  old  only.  And  within  a  few  months  an  event 
occurred  which  was  destined  to  have  an  enormous 
influence  on  my  after  life. 

One  Sunday  morning  I  found  myself  attending  the 


Photo] 


[F.  II.  Fry 


.1.     C.     M.     BKLLEW 


r  To  face  page  5 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE        5 

service  in  Bloomsbury  Chapel,  of  which  the  Rev. 
J.  C.  M.  Bellew  was  the  pastor.  Bloomsbury  Chapel, 
long  since  pulled  down,  was  situated  to  the  south-west 
of  New  Oxford  Street,  in  Bloomsbury  Street,  on  the 
site  of  what  is  now  a  clothing  store,  etc.  Its  pastor  was 
a  most  extraordinary  man — well  known  as  a  great 
reader  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  and  in  India. 
His  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  attractive  person- 
alities conceivable.  With  a  juvenile  set  of  features, 
of  great  character,  and  white  hair,  which  lay  wherever 
he  chose  to  shake  it,  and  a  wonderfully  beautiful  hand, 
his  appearance  alone  arrested  attention.  Add  to  this 
a  glorious  voice,  capable  of  modulation  and  vibration 
to  every  kind  of  emotion  and  character,  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  very  best  reader  and  elocutionist  that 
I  have  ever  heard  down  to  to-day,  and  his  magnetism 
and  charm  may  be  fairly  estimated.  To  the  female 
mind  he  was  well-nigh  irresistible,  and  many  were  the 
stories,  at  the  time,  of  the  devotion  of  his  admirers. 
It  was  said  that  his  farewell  sermon,  on  leaving  India, 
was  preached  in  a  tent  to  10,000  people,  and  as  many 
were  on  the  plain  outside  endeavouring  to  catch  his 
tones  and  words.  Certain  it  is  that  anything  like  his 
power  and  eloquence  in  the  reading  desk  and  pulpit 
I  have  never  heard.  Has  any  one  ever  considered  the 
full  possibilities  of  some  portions  of  the  service  of  the 
Anglican  Church  ?  Some  of  the  prayers  and  collects, 
for  instance  ?  I  am  the  last  man  to  advocate  theatrical- 
ism  in  devotion,  but  I  am  bound  to  say  that  J.  C.  M. 
Bellew  first  opened  my  eyes  and  ears  to  the  beauties  and 
strength  of  the  Church  service.  After  having  heard 
them  droned  out,  all  my  boyhood  days,  by  the  ordinary 


6        FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

country  parson,  his  reading  came  as  a  revelation  to  me 
and  arrested  my  attention  as  nothing  had  ever  done 
before.  It  is,  I  beUeve,  a  fact  that  Bellew  would  have 
been  an  actor  (as  his  son  KjtIc  eventually  became), 
but  unfortunately  the  graces  of  his  person  did  not 
extend  to  his  nether  limbs,  which  were  painfully  paren- 
thetic in  their  conformation.  In  his  public  readings, 
which  were  immensely  popular  in  whatever  part  of  the 
world  they  were  heard,  this  part  of  his  anatomy  was 
unexposed.  Of  his  dramatic  skill  it  may  be  noted  that 
he  coached  Charles  Fechter,  the  French  romantic  actor, 
in  the  part  of  Hamlet  (a  performance  which  Fechter 
made  world-famous),  and  I  once  saw  Bellew  make  the 
curious  experiment  of  reading  the  whole  of  that  play 
(every  part)  with  all  the  characters  performed,  in  dumb 
show,  by  a  company  of  trained  artists. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  attractiveness  of  his  public 
readings,  and  I  say,  without  any  hesitation,  he  has  never 
been  equalled.  I  just  knew,  and  heard  several  times, 
the  great  Charles  Dickens  read,  but  he  did  not  compare 
with  Bellew,  even  in  reading  his  own  works,  except  in 
the  one  notable  instance  of  the  murder  of  Nancy  Sikes, 
in  which  he  was  incomparable.  In  comedy,  tragedy, 
dialect,  humour,  or  pathos,  Bellew  was  jacile  princeps. 

From  all  this  it  may  be  gathered  how  completely 
he  compelled  my  admiration  and  swayed  my  under- 
standing when  I  first  heard  him  on  that  eventful  Sunday 
morning  in  church.  He  rekindled  in  my  mind  all  the 
love  of  my  schooldays  for  the  study  of  the  poets,  and 
relighted  a  spark  which,  though  it  smouldered  for  a 
long  time,  was  destined  to  burst  into  open  flame,  and 
burn  on  for  all  my  days. 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   7 

In  the  early  seventies  Bellew  undertook  a  reading 
tour  in  the  United  States,  which  was  eminently  success- 
ful, but  whether  the  climate  disagreed  with  him,  or  the 
work  was  too  hard,  or  from  natural  causes,  I  have  no 
means  of  knowing,  but  he  returned  a  jaded,  sallow, 
worn-out-looking  man,  and  died  shortly  afterwards. 
Nor  can  I  speak  of  him  as  a  religionist,  pure  and  simple  ! 
Coincidentally  with  his  great  artistic  and  financial  suc- 
cess as  a  public  reader  he  "  verted  "  to  Roman  Catholi- 
cism. How  fervently  he  followed  up  that  faith  I  know 
not.  I  attended  every  Bellew  reading  I  could  ever  get 
to,  and  went  to  as  many  theatres  as  I  could  afford  for 
years,  and  became  familiar,  as  any  outsider  could,  with 
the  men  and  women  and  the  affairs  of  the  stage,  and  as 
a  matter  of  course,  was  an  ambitious  mimic  of  much 
that  I  saw  and  heard ;  but  my  father,  to  whom  I 
broached  my  ambition,  would  not  hear  of  the  stage  as 
an  occupation  (there  was  an  enormous  amount  of  preju- 
dice against  it  in  those  days).  So  for  eight  years  I  was 
destined  to  continue  in  a  business  which  was  distasteful 
and  irksome  to  me,  with  only  the  annual  relaxation  of 
a  holiday  in  my  old  home. 

Whilst  on  one  of  these  holidays  as  incident  occurred 
which  has  often  struck  me  since  as  being  distinctly 
humorous.  I  went  with  my  father  to  Thame  (in 
Oxfordshire)  on  market  day.  As  we  alighted  from  the 
old-fashioned  gig  (of  those  days)  in  the  yard  of  "  The 
Spread  Eagle  "  Inn,  the  ostler  came  to  our  horse's 
head.  He  had  a  most  remarkable  face,  a  Bardolphian 
nose  of  huge  proportions,  a  complexion  in  which  all  the 
hues  of  the  rainbow  were  represented,  and  eyes  which 
spoke  all  too  plainly  of  stronger  liquid  refreshment  than 


8        FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

water.  My  father  (to  whom  he  was  an  old  acquaintance) 
said  ;  "  Johnnie  !  It  has  taken  a  lot  of  money  to  paint 
your  nose  that  nice  colour,  hasn't  it  ?  "  He  replied, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation  :  "  E'es,  sur,  so  it  'ave  ! 
but  if  I  could  affoord  it  I'd  'ave  'im  varnished  neow." 

In  1868  came  the  first  great  grief  of  my  life.  I  lost 
my  good  father,  and  it  seemed  at  the  time  that  I  could 
never  get  over  it.  But  "  Time,  the  healer,"  came  to 
my  aid,  and  my  longing  for  a  change  of  occupation  re- 
asserted itself  when  I  was  my  own  master.  For  the 
next  three  years  I  worked  on  in  business  all  day  and 
studied  hard  well  on  into  the  middle  of  most  of  the 
nights,  and  October  22,  1870,  I  made  my  first  public 
appearance  as  a  reader  in  Westbourne  Hall,  Bayswater. 
I  gave  another  reading  on  December  14,  1870,  at  the 
same  place,  and  yet  another  on  November  16,  1871.  I 
received  considerable  Press  encouragement. 

At  the  time  of  my  third  venture  I  had  got,  through  a 
friend,  the  merest  speaking  acquaintance  with  Dion 
Boucicault  the  elder  and,  with  the  temerity  of  the 
amateur,  I  wrote  to  ask  him  to  attend  with  a  view  to 
judging  of  my  qualification  for  the  stage.  Needless  to 
say,  he  did  not  do  so,  but  he  wrote  me  a  very  pleasant 
and  characteristic  letter  in  which  he  said  :  "  Readings 
give  little  or  no  proof  of  dramatic  ability.  A  good 
reader  may  be  a  very  bad  actor,  and  vice  versa.  If  you 
are  fully  bent  on  going  on  the  stage  begin  at  the  bottom 
rung  of  the  ladder  and  work  up  like  an  honest  man," 
and  he  added  a  sentence  which,  as  a  precept,  I  have 
never  lost  sight  of  to  this  day  :  "  Depend  upon  it, 
experience  is  the  only  master,  and  the  public  are  the 
only  judges." 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   9 

My  last  years  in  business  had  been  quite  successful, 
and  I  was  mentioned  for  a  good  position  in  an  enter- 
prise, then  under  consideration,  which  has  turned  out 
amazingly  well.  It  is  now  one  of  London's  biggest 
monuments  of  business  success,  and  has  resulted  in  a 
baronetcy  for  the  manager,  with  whom  I  might  have 
been  associated.  An  old  proverb  says,  "  You  can't 
burn  the  candle  at  both  ends,"  and  the  strenuous  life 
I  was  leading  began  to  "  tell  its  tale,"  and  I  was  advised 
by  a  kind  old  doctor,  who  knew  me  well,  that  if  I  did 
not  give  up  one  employment  or  the  other  I  should  break 
down  utterly,  or  lose  my  reason,  and  one  day  when 
suffering  from  acute  neuralgia,  I  resented  an  insulting 
remark  made  by  an  officious  "  jack  in  office,"  and  finally 
resigned  my  position  and  started  out  to  try  my  fortunes 
in  the  walk  of  life  for  which  I  had  been  hungering  for 
so  long  a  time.  A  stroke  of  luck  befell  me  almost  at 
once  !  I  had  an  acquaintance  named  Henry  Melton, 
who  had  been  the  life-long  friend  and  was  the  executor 
of  the  will  of  Walter  Montgomery,  the  brilliant  actor 
and  elocutionist  of  world-wide  renown,  who  shot  him- 
self in  London  on  account  of  a  most  beautiful  but  worth- 
less woman  some  time  before  this.  Melton  introduced 
me  to  Mr.  H.  L.  Batemen,  manager  of  the  Lyceum,  who 
was  about  to  produce  The  Bells,  in  which  Sir  Henry 
(then  Mr.)]Irving,  made  his  enormous  success  and  stepped 
into  stellar  rank.  To  my  great  joy,  Mr.  Bateman 
gave  me  an  opportunity  to  make  my  first  appearance 
on  the  regular  stage  as  Mr.  Irving's  double  in  what 
was  to  him  (and  the  theatre)  a  great  and  eventful 
night.  And,  for  good  or  ill,  I  was  an  actor !  This  was 
on  the  night  of  November  25,  1871. 


II 

Few  people  know  how  momentous,  in  more  ways  than 
one,  was  the  first  night  of  The  Bells.  Mr.  Bateman,  an 
American  manager  settled  in  London,  had  already 
launched  his  eldest  daughter,  Kate — the  present  re- 
spected and  esteemed  Mrs.  Crowe — as  a  successful  star 
in  England  through  the  medium  of  the  play  Leah,  the 
Forsaken,  and,  with  a  limited  capital,  had  taken  the 
Lyceum,  which  had  been  a  failure  and  closed  for  a  long 
time,  with  the  hope  of  making  another  daughter,  Isabel, 
also  a  great  feature.  He  rather  relied  on  a  fine  character 
actor  of  the  day,  George  Belmore,  for  his  male  attrac- 
tion. He  had  engaged  a  good  all-round  company, 
though,  including  Irving.  The  first  play — Fanchette — 
failed  disastrously,  and  was  followed  by  a  version  of 
The  Pickwick  Papers,  prepared  by  James  Albery. 
In  it  Belmore  made  only  a  moderate  success  as  Sam 
Weller.  Irving  succeeded  greatly  as  Alfred  Jingle,  but 
again  the  play  failed  to  attract  the  public.  The  Bells, 
a  version  of  Le  Juif  Polonais,  adapted  by  a  London 
solicitor,  Leopold  Lewis,  was  put  up  as  a  last  and  forlorn 
hope.  Had  it  failed  the  theatre  would  have  closed.  It 
succeeded  from  the  very  first  line.  Irving  scored  a 
veritable  triumph  from  which  he  never  looked  back,  and 
the  Lyceum  started  on  a  tide  of  prosperity  the  like  of 
which   it  had   scarcely   ever   known   before.     Pickwick 

10 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      11 

was  played  as  an  after-piece  the  first  night  of  The  Bells 
and  for  many  weeks  afterwards,  but  Irving  soon  re- 
signed the  part  of  Jingle  to  Charles  Warner  and  confined 
his  efforts  to  the  conscience-stricken  Mathias  only.  I 
shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  Irving  more  fully  in  the 
course  of  these  reminiscences,  but  an  incident  of  this 
time  is,  I  think,  worthy  of  record. 

After  one  of  the  rehearsals  of  The  Bells,  I  found  myself 
(I  don't  know  how)  in  conversation  with  Bateman, 
Lewis,  and  Irving,  when  some  topic  of  the  politics  of 
the  day  was  being  discussed.  As  showing  how  one  man, 
destined  to  rise,  seems  to  smell  out  another  of  a  similar 
character,  I  remember,  very  distinctly,  Irving  saying, 
in  his  most  telling  manner,  "  Ah  !  I  fancy  we  shall  hear 
a  good  deal  more  of  this  chap  Joe  Chamberlain  from  Bir- 
mingham before  we  have  done  with  him."  Be  it  re- 
membered that  at  that  time  Irving  himself  had  not 
played  The  Bells  and  Joseph  Chamberlain  was  known 
more  as  a  very  successful  and  popular  Mayor  of  Bir- 
mingham than  as  the  brilliant  statesman  who  was 
destined  to  take  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  affairs  of 
Great  Britain. 

Consequent  on  Irving's  success,  Bateman  became  his 
very  enthusiastic  champion,  and  voiced  his  excellences 
as  an  artist  on  every  possible  occasion  in  language  of 
great  force,  liberally  embellished  with  his  own  picturesque 
vocabulary.  Indeed,  it  became  so  much  a  mania  with 
him  that  a  few  years  later  (1875),  at  a  banquet  given  to 
celebrate  the  100th  night  of  Irving's  performance  of 
Hamlet,  he  bitterly  resented  some  remarks  of  Charles 
Dickens,  jun.,  in  which  the  latter  referred  to  the  then 
impending  visit  of  the  great  Italian  tragedian,  Salvini, 


12      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

to  London,  and  claimed  a  generous  reception  for  him. 
Bateman  regarded  it  as  quite  a  personal  and  almost 
international  affront,  which  was  odd,  considering  his 
own  nationality.  However,  Salvini  came  and  set  London 
wild  with  his  Othello  for  one  season ;  but  his  great  suc- 
cess did  not  extend  to  a  second. 

Bateman  was,  withal,  a  kind  friend  to  me,  and  soon 
advised  me  that  as  The  Bells  was  "  in  for  a  run,"  I  was 
not  doing  myself  much  good  in  continuing  in  a  negative 
non-speaking  part,  and  so  I  sought  out  H.  J.  Montague, 
whom  I  had  met  on  one  or  two  occasions,  and  who  was 
then  the  manager  of  the  Globe  in  Newcastle  Street, 
Strand — long  since  swept  away  by  the  radical  street 
improvements  of  London  which  have  given  us  Kings- 
way  and  Aldwych. 

Montague  offered  me  a  small  engagement,  and  I  played 
my  first  speaking  part  under  his  management  on  De- 
cember 18,  1871,  in  the  farce  My  Wife's  Out,  with  E.  W. 
Garden  (still  happily  with  us)  and  Misses  Nellie  and 
Maria  Harris — daughters  of  Augustus  Harris — (a  very 
able  man),  stage  manager  of  Covent  Garden  Opera 
under  Gye,  and  sisters  of  him  who  afterwards  became 
Sir  Augustus  Harris,  manager  of  Drury  Lane.  A  candid, 
valued  friend  told  me  years  afterwards  that,  witnessing 
my  effort  at  that  time,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  had  not  only  mistaken  my  vocation,  but  was  a  "  stick  " 
of  a  very  pronounced  kind. 

A  book  might  be  written  about  the  career  of  Montague. 
Indeed,  it  is  almost  a  wonder  it  was  never  done.  What 
can  I  say  that  will  not  appear  like  "  painting  the  lily  " 
or  "  gilding  refined  gold  "  ?  His  dearest  friend  would 
not  have  spoken  of  Harry  Montague  as  a  great  actor, 


AUOUSTUS    HARRIS    THE    ELDER 

(Stage  Manager,  Coveiit  Garden  Opera) 


[To  face  page  1'2 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   13 

and  yet  he  had  a  vogue  which  many  a  great  actor  might 
have  envied,  and  filled  a  niche  in  which  he  has  not  to 
this  day  been  replaced.  Coming  into  prominence  with 
the  so-called  "  tea-cup  and  saucer  school "  of  Tom 
Robertson,  he  had  a  method  and  a  charm  which  were 
all  his  own.  He  was  not  really  handsome,  though  he 
had  a  most  pleasing  face  and  a  graceful,  lithe  figure, 
but  he  had  the  delightful  attribute,  both  on  and  off  the 
stage,  of  making  it  appear  that  the  person  he  was 
addressing  was  the  one  of  all  the  earth  in  whom  he  was 
most  interested.  No  one  has  ever  spoken  the  pleasant, 
tender  lines  of  modern  comedy  or  interested  an  audience 
in  the  purely  jeune  'premier  role  as  he  did.  One  reads  a 
good  deal  in  these  days  of  "  matinee  idols."  Com- 
paratively speaking,  Montague  was  a  "  matinee  god." 
The  younger  female  population  of  two  countries  seemed 
to  consider  that  the  "  sun  rose  and  set  "  in  his  one 
pleasant  personality. 

After  enjoying  unbounded  popularity  in  England,  he 
journeyed  to  New  York  and  took  his  place  in  the  company 
at  Wallack's  Theatre  (then  at  13th  Street  and  Broad- 
way). There  his  triumphs,  artistic  and  personal,  were 
renewed  and,  if  possible,  redoubled.  Indeed,  I  have 
myself,  when  in  his  company,  been  a  witness  of  circum- 
stances where  his  social  popularity  was  positively  em- 
barrassing. He  never  returned  to  England,  after  his 
success  in  New  York,  where  he  made  a  handsome  income 
for  some  years.  Alas  !  with  a  physique  never  too  robust, 
he  scarcely  led  the  life  which  makes  for  longevity. 
With  a  disposition  to  consumption,  he  broke  a  blood- 
vessel and  died  quite  suddenly  in  San  Francisco  in  what 
should  have  been  the  prime  of  life.     This  was  in  1878. 


14      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

His  funeral  in  the  "  City  of  the  Golden  Gate  "  is  almost 
historic,  and  partook  of  the  nature  of  a  State  or  even 
Federal  function.  His  body  was  brought  to  New  York 
and  buried  from  "  The  Little  Church  Round  the  Corner," 
where  Dr.  Houghton,  one  of  his  dearest  and  most  loving 
friends,  spoke  the  last  sympathetic  words  to  waft  him 
on  his  final  journey,  and  where  a  most  beautiful  stained 
glass  window  is  erected  to  his  memory  by  his  admirers. 
This  is  an  excellent  reproduction  of  his  features.  He 
appears  in  the  costume  of  the  monk's  disguise  worn  by 
Romeo  in  the  Ballroom  scene  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  This 
part,  by  the  by,  he  never  played,  except  in  the  Balcony 
scene,  once,  for  a  benefit  in  London.  The  part  was  one 
of  a  greater  depth  than  he  could  tackle  successfully. 
Poor  Harry  Montague  !  And  yet  why  "  poor  "  ?  To 
have  given  pleasure  to  countless  thousands  and  to  be 
remembered  affectionately  by  a  large  section  of  the 
public  of  two  hemispheres  is  not  to  have  lived  in 
vain! 

I  have  spoken  of  "  The  Little  Church  Round  the 
Corner."  To  those  who  have  not  read  Joseph  Jefferson's 
biography,  where  the  incident  is  so  charmingly  de- 
scribed, it  may  be  interesting  to  learn  how  the  church 
got  that  name.  An  actor,  a  great  friend  of  Jefferson's, 
died,  and  Jefferson  applied  to  the  pastor  of  a  certain 
fashionable  church  in  New  York  to  conduct  his  funeral. 
This  gentleman  demurred  at  the  fact  of  burying  an 
actor  (such  was  the  prejudice  of  those  days),  but,  said 
he,  "  There  is  a  little  church  round  the  corner  where  you 
might  be  able  to  arrange  it."  Jefferson  withdrew, 
saying,  "  Then  God  bless  the  little  church  round  the 
corner."     The  story  got  abroad,   and  ever  since  that 


FORTY   YEARS    ON   THE   STAGE      15 

time  the  church  has  gone  by  that  name.  It  is  endeared 
to  members  of  the  actor's  calling  by  many  circum- 
stances. Its  real  name  is  "  The  Church  of  the  Trans- 
figuration." It  stands  in  29th  Street,  just  out  of  5th 
Avenue.  The  pastor,  for  many  years  (the  Rev.  Dr. 
Houghton),  understood  us  and  our  work.  He  sympa- 
thised with  our  aspirations,  as  with  our  heart-breakings 
and  calamities,  and  here,  just  within  a  few  steps  of  the 
"  busy  haunts  of  men,"  there  was  always  a  welcome  and 
quiet  seclusion  of  rest  and  peace;  and  here  so  many  of 
our  comrades,  male  and  female,  have  been  wished  a 
loving  farewell  when  starting  on  their  great  final  tour — 
a  farewell  wherein  their  failings  have  been  forgotten  and 
their  merits  remembered  by  one  who  knew  and  loved  us 
all,  as  equal  members  of  the  one  great  family  it  was  his 
work  to  guide. 

I  stayed  with  Montague  the  whole  of  the  season  and 
got  a  chance  of  playing  two  or  three  small  original  parts, 
and  also  some  important  ones  as  understudies  (for  which 
I  was  always  ready),  and  it  was  a  pleasant  little  feather 
in  my  cap  that  Montague  was  rather  annoyed  that  I  did 
not  remain  with  him  for  the  following  season.  About 
this  time  also  I  got  a  flattering  and  tempting  offer  to 
return  to  my  former  business  life,  but  I  had  "  smelt  the 
powder  " — the  battle-cry  rang  in  my  ears,  and  work, 
work,  work  in  my  chosen  profession  was  the  absolute 
"  breath  of  my  nostrils." 

After  a  reading  in  my  native  place  (June  28,  1872)  for 
a  local  charity  under  the  auspices  of  the  vicar  of  the 
parish  and  some  other  local  "  big  wigs,"  I  joined  the 
company  engaged  for  the  first  opening  of  the  Londes- 
borough,  Scarborough  (Julj^  8,  1872),  as  first  walking 


16      FORTY   YEARS    ON   THE   STAGE 

gentleman.  Those  were  the  days  of  strict  lines  of 
business  and  first  walking  gentleman  was  an  appre- 
ciable advance  for  me.  At  this  fashionable  Yorkshire 
seaside  resort  work  was  very  hard  indeed,  but  never 
too  hard  for  me.  The  theatre  was  opened  by  a  Mr. 
Waddington,  a  wealthy  pianoforte  dealer  of  York.  We 
had  to  change  the  bill  two  and  three  times  every  week, 
and  played  usually  a  farce,  a  comedy,  and  a  burlesque 
every  night,  with  a  drama  on  Saturdays.  Business 
was  fair  only.  In  the  company  was  a  gentleman  making 
his  first  appearance  on  the  stage,  named  H.  G.  Blythe, 
son  of  an  Indian  judge,  an  Oxford  graduate.  He  after- 
wards crossed  to  the  United  States,  changed  his  name, 
and  was  the  well-known  actor,  quite  fair  dramatist, 
and  quite  brilliant  humorist,  known  as  Maurice  Barry- 
more,  who  married  that  capital  actress  Georgie  Drew, 
daughter  of  Mrs.  John  Drew,  the  elder,  and  sister  of 
the  present  popular  John  Drew.  Poor  Barry's  sad 
end  was  regretted  by  all.  He  had  many  friends  and 
few,  if  any,  enemies. 

Our  leading  man  at  Scarborough  was  Charles  Van- 
denhoff,  son  of  George  Vandenhoff,  who  settled  in 
Boston,  U.S.A.,  as  a  teacher  of  elocution,  etc.  Rather 
a  dramatic  episode  arose  in  this  connection.  When 
Charles  was  becoming  well  known  on  the  stage,  his 
father  wrote  a  public  letter,  stating  that  "  only  two  men 
had  any  right  to  use  the  historical  theatrical  name  of 
Vandenhoff — ^himself  and  Henry  Vandenhoff,  then 
residing  at  Liverpool."  This  was,  strictly  speaking, 
true,  but  certainly  cruel  and  in  questionable  taste, 
Charley  felt  it  very,  very  bitterly.  He  wrote  a  digni- 
fied and  intensely  human  letter  in  reply,  in  which  he 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      17 

signed  himself  "  the  natural  son  of  a  most  unnatural 
father,"  but,  in  a  way,  it  seemed  to  embitter  his  whole 
life.  Charles  Vandenhoff  was  a  good  all-round  actor, 
a  little  undersized,  perhaps,  thoroughly  experienced, 
just  a  trifle  stagey,  but  steady  and  sound ;  a  loyal  friend 
and  a  good  fellow.  A  strong  friendship  which  began  at 
Scarborough  between  Barrymore  and  him  ended  only 
with  their  respective  lives. 

Only  one  "  star  "  came  to  us  during  the  season — 
that  capital  character  actor,  John  Clarke,  and  he  brought 
with  him  his  bride,  to  whom  he  had  been  married  the 
week  before  at  Yarmouth,  a  pretty  creature  and  pleasant 
actress — Miss  Furtado  (long  at  the  Adelphi,  London). 

Two  rather  funny  incidents  occurred  during  this 
season,  the  first  one  to  myself.  I  was  playing  Alphonse 
de  Grandier  in  Delicate  Ground,  a  charming  one -act 
play  taken  from  the  same  French  source  as  Sardou  used 
in  recent  years  as  the  basis  of  Divorgons.  Alphonse 
has  to  enter  very  nervously,  calling  on  the  wife  of 
Citizen  Sanfroid,  disguised  as  a  pack-man,  with  his 
box  of  wares,  as  if  for  sale.  Citizen  Sangfroid  says, 
"  Sit  down,  at  all  events ;  your  legs  seem  giving  way 
under  you."  I  entered  as  nervously  as  I  could  and  was 
received  with  such  a  shout  of  laughter  that  I  was  dis- 
posed to  plume  myself  on  the  possession  of,  till  then, 
undiscovered  comedy  powers.  Alas  !  I  was  soon  un- 
deceived. A  little  later  in  the  scene  I  discovered  I  had 
carried  on  a  box  labelled  at  the  end  showing  the  audience, 
"  Epps'  Homoeopathic  Cocoa,"  which  the  property  man 
had  dodged  up  in  a  hurry  for  the  purpose  without 
noticing  the  aforesaid  label.  As  the  action  of  the  play 
takes  place  at  the  period  of  the  French  Revolution,  it 


18      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

can  be  readily  imagined  the  audience  found  good  cause 
for  merriment. 

The  other  accident  was  equally  unfortunate.  The 
play  was  The  Corsican  Brothers  one  Saturday  night. 
The  trick  swords  had  been  telegraphed  for  from  London, 
but  had  not  arrived,  and  the  manager  promised  the 
actors  that  if  they  would  file  their  own  swords  so  that 
they  would  break  at  the  right  moment  he  would  indem- 
nify them  for  the  loss.  They  did  so.  At  the  given 
moment  in  the  celebrated  duel  scene  where  Mont- 
giron  said,  "  This  fight  cannot  proceed ;  Monsieur  de 
Chateau  Renaud's  sword  is  broken  " — (as  it  was) — 
"  the  weapons  are  not  equal ;  "  Vandenhoff,  as  Fabian 
di  Franchi  replied,  "  It  shall  proceed.  I  have  made 
them  equal."  Montgiron  :  "  Implacable  ?  "  Fabian 
di  Franchi  :  "  As  destiny  !  "  and  he  essayed  to  break 
his  sword  over  his  knee ;  it  bent  double.  He  repeated, 
"As  destiny"  and  tried  to  break  it  the  other  way; 
again  it  bent  double.  What  it  was  made  of  Heaven 
alone  knows,  but  it  seemed  as  if  it  could  be  tied  in  a 
knot  without  breaking,  and  poor  Fabian  had  to  finish 
the  fight  with  the  butt  end  of  Chateau  Renaud's  sword, 
amid  the  derisive  and  amused  shouts  of  the  audience. 


Ill 

The  autumn  of  1872  found  me  back  in  London  at 
Drury  Lane  in  Andrew  Halliday's  version  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  romance,  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake." 

The  manager  of  the  theatre  was  F.  B.  Chatterton, 
the  gentleman  who  gave  out  the  oft -quoted  statement 
that  "  Shakespeare  spelt  ruin  and  Byron  bankruptcy," 
vhich  was  pretty  nearly  true  as  he  understood  it ;  but, 
in  the  words  of  a  well-known  saying,  "  There  were 
ovhers." 

Halliday  seemed,  at  that  time,  to  have  a  "  corner  " 
in  Scott's  works,  and  produced  one  nearly  every  year. 
I  am  afraid  this  one  was  not  a  good  play,  but  it  had  a 
very  successful  feature,  namely,  a  gorgeously  painted 
panorama  of  Loch  Katrine,  by  that  scenic  master, 
William  Beverley.  The  cast  was  a  strong  one — James 
Fernandez  (Fitzjames),  Henry  Sinclair  (Roderick  Dhu) 
J.  Dewhurst  (Douglas),  William  Terriss  (Malcolm 
Graeme),  and  our  leading  lady  was  a  beautiful  and 
charming  creature,  Miss  Maria  B.  Jones,  quite  a  talented 
actress,  who  died  at  an  early  age,  to  the  sorrow  of  a 
large  circle  of  friends  and  the  inexpressible  grief  of  her 
husband,  F.  C.  Philips,  the  distinguished  dramatist  and 
novelist,  author  of  As  in  a  Looking  Glass. 

On  the  first  night  a  contretemps  occurred  which  would 
have  broken  the  nerve  and  heart  of  any  one  less  in 

19 


20      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

earnest  than  I  was.  I  played  a  small  part  called 
Captain  Lewis,  and  I  remember  I  was  dressed  in  an 
all -yellow  costume,  looking  like  a  large  animated 
mustard  pot.  At  a  certain  point  I  had  to  advance,  with 
my  sword  drawn,  to  protect  the  heroine  from  the  un- 
welcome attentions  of  a  body  of  soldiery,  saying  : 
"  Stand  back,  ye  knaves  !  "  I  did  this  correctly  as 
rehearsed,  but,  unhappily,  our  stage  manager,  Mr. 
Edward  Sterling,  who  was  growing  old  and  somewhat 
oblivious,  had  not  sufficiently  instructed  them  in  their 
advances  or  "  business,"  and  I  had  threateningly  drawn 
my  sword  on  as  mild  a  lot  of  supers  as  ever  killed  a 
scene  by  their  incompetence.  A  roar  of  laughter  went 
up  from  all  parts  of  that  vast  auditorium  which  I  can 
never  forget.  The  manager,  and  indeed  everybody 
concerned,  hastened  to  absolve  me  from  blame  in  the 
matter,  and  I  even  received  credit  for  displaying  nerve 
in  such  a  situation ;  but  it  was  greatly  disconcerting, 
and  is  to  this  day  a  painful  memory. 

But  this  engagement  brought  me  one  great  com- 
pensating pleasure.  A  friendship  begun  at  that  time 
with  that  fine  actor  and  downright  good  fellow,  James 
Fernandez,  has  continued  without  a  moment's  break  or 
intermission  down  to  this  day.  Amongst  the  many 
dearly  loved  comrades  in  my  profession  I  could  think  of 
none  whose  friendship  has  worn  better  or  brought  me 
greater  happiness  than  that  of  this  able,  genial,  and 
sterling  artist  and  chum. 

In  December  (1872)  I  joined  the  company  at  the  old 

Strand,   then   under  the   management   of   Mrs.   Swan- 

borough,  a  kind  old  lady  with  a  big  heart,  but  who  had 

ot  had  many  of  the  advantages  of  education,  and  whose 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      21 

malapropisms  were  the  cause  of  much  mirth  amongst 
her  acquaintances.  The  things  she  said,  and  the  things 
that  were  said  by  others  and  attributed  to  her,  would  fill 
many  pages.  On  one  occasion  she  was  congratulated 
on  a  pretty  carpet  in  use  on  the  stage  in  a  drawing-room 
scene.  She  replied,  "  Ah,  I'm  glad  you  like  it  !  The 
Prince  of  Wales  expectorated  on  that  carpet  when  he  was 
here  the  other  night." 

On  another  occasion  she  was  speaking  of  improve- 
ments she  had  made  in  the  theatre,  and  in  enumerating 
them  said,  "  And  I  have  had  a  new  spinal  staircase  put 
up  to  the  flies." 

When  the  Vaudeville  was  first  opened  it  was  to  be 
called  the  Bijou,  and  the  prospective  managers  an- 
nounced were  David  James,  Thomas  Thorne,  and  H.  J. 
Montague.  At  that  time  David  James  had  a  year's 
contract  still  to  run  at  the  Strand,  and  Mrs.  Swan- 
borough  said  :  "If  Mr.  David  James  intends  to  play 
me  any  tricks  and  go  off  to  that  Bougie  theatre,  I'll  serve 
him  with  an  injection,  and  see  what  comes  of  that." 

At  the  Strand  I  met  that  incomparable  humorist, 
H.  J.  Byron.  I  played  in  three  of  his  plays — Sir  Simon 
Simple,  Prompters  Box,  and  Old  Soldiers  (first  produc- 
tion), and  was  fortunate  in  making  a  firm  friend  of  him, 
which  continued  up  to  his  death.  He  was  not  a 
great  actor,  though  he  had  a  delightful  way  of  delivering 
his  own  good  lines.  And  what  good  lines  they  were  ! 
But  every  second  sentence  that  fell  from  his  lips  was  a 
joke,  and  always  a  genial  one,  never  sarcastic  or  caustic. 
It  would,  indeed,  fill  a  volume  to  record  half  of  his 
sallies,  but  many  of  them  have  passed  into  proverbs  ere 
this,  and  I  am  constantly  being  told  of  jokes  that  men 


22      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

have  made  nowadays  which,  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
date  back  to  and  emanated  from  him. 

Heaven  knows  how  many  plays  he  wrote,  dramas, 
comedies,  and  burlesques.  He  has  been  known  to  write 
an  act  of  a  comedy  in  a  day,  and  a  short  burlesque 
between  Friday  and  the  following  Monday.  Perhaps 
his  best  play  was  a  comedy,  entitled  CyriVs  Success  ; 
but,  of  course,  his  most  successful  one  was  Our  Boys, 
which  ran  fourteen  hundred  nights  in  London  on  its 
first  production,  and  has  had  any  number  of  revivals 
since — indeed,  it  is  constantly  being  played  somewhere 
to  this  day. 

One  of  his  best  jokes  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  pro- 
duction of  his  drama,  The  Lancashire  Lass,  at  the  old 
Queen's.  A  very  long  wait  occurred  at  the  end  of  the 
third  act.  The  orchestra  had  tried  to  bridge  over  the 
gap,  and  the  audience  were  getting  very  impatient 
indeed.  Byron  was  in  a  box  with  E.  L.  Blanchard,  the 
critic.  All  at  once  a  strong  sawing  was  heard  at  the 
back  of  the  curtain.  Blanchard  sympathetically  and 
excitedly  said,  "  What's  that,  Byron  ?  WTiat's  that  ?  " 
Byron  quite  calmly  replied,  "  Upon  my  soul,  I  don't 
know,  old  man,  unless  they  are  cutting  out  the  fourth 
act  !  " 

When  he  was  manager  of  one  of  the  Liverpool  theatres 
he  was  consulting  with  the  foreman  during  some  re- 
decorations  as  to  a  suitable  embellishment  for  a  large 
bare  space  on  the  wall  of  the  box-office.  The  foreman 
made  two  or  three  suggestions,  such  as  the  City  coat  of 
arms,  etc.,  etc.,  when  Byron  said  :  "  No,  no  !  I  have 
it;  the  very  thing — Shakespearean  quotation,  '  So  much 
for  book-ing  'em.'  " 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      23 

On  what  proved  to  be  his  death-bed  (for  he  never  got 
up  again)  he  made  a  joke.  His  coachman  came  to  see 
him,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  said,  "  That  grey 
mare  of  ours  don't  seem  to  do  well,  sir  !  I  think  I  must 
give  her  a  ball  !  "  Byron  replied,  feebly,  "  Well,  do 
so,  then  ;   but  don't  ask  too  many." 

He  had  a  perfect  mania  for  changing  his  places  of 
residence,  and  it  must  have  been  a  frightfully  expensive 
one,  for  he  never  seemed  to  be  six  months  in  the  same 
home.  For  a  man  who  did  so  much  clever  work  he  did 
not  die  well  off,  and  I  fear  with  him,  as  with  many 
others,  it  was  easier  to  make  money  than  to  keep  it. 
A  kindlier,  cleverer,  wittier,  or  more  genial  gentleman 
never  lived.     Requiescat  in  pace. 

Other  well-known  artists  at  the  Strand  at  that  time 
were  Edward  Terry,  W.  H.  Vernon,  Miss  Kate  Bishop, 
Miss  Ada  Swan  borough,  and  that  wonderful  "  old 
woman,"  Mrs.  Raymond. 

And  yet  it  is  wrong  to  speak  of  Lucy  Raymond  as  an 
"  old  woman  "  of  the  stage  !  She  was  in  fact  a  female 
low  comedian,  if  ever  there  was  one.  I  have  seen  all 
the  best  comic  acting  of  my  day,  but  I  don't  believe 
I  can  recall  any  man  or  woman  who  could  excel  this 
extraordinary  old  lady  in  compelling  laughter.  She 
had  a  funny,  squatty  figure,  and  a  large  face,  with  a 
broad  man's  jowl  and  a  kind  of  stony,  fixed,  perplexed 
stare.  Heaven  help  the  comedian  who  fancied  he  was 
getting  all  the  laughs  if  he  was  playing  a  scene  with  her. 
I  have  in  my  recollection  one  or  two  such  cases.  She 
was  fairness  itself,  but  she  had  only  to  fix  that  stony 
stare  on  the  other  performer  and  jerk  out  her  lines  in  her 
own  inimitable  way  for  the  audience  to  be  convulsed. 


24      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

She  positively  drew  money  to  the  theatre  on  her  own 
account.  It  was  not  unusual  to  hear  old  gentlemen 
say  in  trains  and  omnibuses,  "  I  always  go  to  see  Lucy 
Raymond;  she  makes  me  laugh  so." 

If  it  were  possible  for  her  to  be  funnier  than  when  she 
was  speaking  her  lines  it  was  when  she  forgot  them. 
Her  perplexity  was  side-splitting.  On  the  first  night 
of  Old  Soldiers  she  had  to  say  to  Miss  Kate  Bishop  : 
"  Shakespeare  says,  '  What's  in  a  name  ?  '  I  say  every- 
thing." Under  the  influence  of  first-night  nervousness, 
her  mind  wandered  temporarily,  and  she  said,  haltingly 
and  spasmodically,  "  Somebody  says — who  is  it?  is  it 
Chaucer?  or  Sir  Benjamin  Jonson?  or  Shakespeare? 
or  some  of  those  old  gentlemen  you  see  in  Westminster 
Abbey  ?— '  What's  in  a  name  ?  '  " 

Byron,  who  was  standing  by,  shook  with  laughter,  and 
immediately  said  :  "  Well,  I  can't  write  anything  as 
funny  as  that;  I'll  put  that  in."  And  it  will  be  found 
incorporated  in  the  printed  book  of  the  play  as  sold 
to-day. 

After  a  short  and  futile  return  to  the  Lyceum,  under 
promise  of  a  part  in  a  play,  which  was  eventually 
abandoned,  in  July  1873,  I  was  engaged  by  Edward 
Saker,  the  manager  of  the  Alexandra,  Liverpool,  for  a 
play  called  Coming  Home  ;  or,  Sithors  to  Grind.  It  was 
written  by  an  actor  named  George  Leitch,  who  had 
been  first  low  comedian  with  me  the  previous  summer  in 
Scarborough,  and  had  kindly  recommended  me.  Saker 
had  produced  the  play  in  the  country,  and  was  fired  with 
an  ambition  to  act  it  in  London,  for  which  purpose  he 
took  the  old  Globe  for  a  summer  season.  It  was  not 
quite  a  good  play,  but  a  very  interesting  one,  a  sort  of 


FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      25 

recollected  dream  of  Dickens.  It  succeeded  mildly 
only.  Mrs.  Saker  (Miss  Marie  O'Beirne)  was  in  the  cast, 
also  Fred  Warde,  who  afterwards  went  to  America  and 
finally  became  a  fairly  successful  classic  star.  But  it 
was  destined  to  be  a  most  important  event  for  me. 
Edward  Saker  was  the  younger  brother  of  Mrs.  R.  H. 
Wyndham,  of  the  Edinburgh  Royal,  and  her  husband 
was  among  the  audience  at  his  brother-in-law's  first 
night.  I  was  fortunate  in  striking  him  favourably, 
and  he  inquired  from  Saker  who  and  what  I  was. 
Learning  that  I  was  reliable  and  always  in  earnest,  he 
asked  me  to  meet  him  at  dinner  at  the  Tavistock  Hotel, 
Covent  Garden.  I  accepted  his  invitation,  and,  to  my 
great  surprise,  he  offered  me  the  position  of  leading  man 
at  his  theatre.  Now  at  that  time  the  Royal,  Edinburgh, 
housed  not  only  one  of  the  last  of  the  historic  stock  com- 
panies, but  was  recognised  as  one  of  the  very  finest 
training  schools  of  the  British  stage,  where  many  of  the 
foremost  artists  had  served  their  apprenticeship  under 
the  marvellous  and  incomparable  stage  management  and 
instruction  of  Mrs.  Wyndham  (down  to  to-day  the  best 
I  have  ever  seen).  I  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Wyndham  that 
I  had  never  been  in  such  a  position  and  that  every  part 
I  should  play  under  such  an  engagement  would  be  for 
the  first  time.  He  replied  that  he  was  aware  of  that, 
but  from  what  he  had  learned  about  me  Mrs.  W.  and 
he  were  willing  to  take  the  risk  if  I  were  willing  to  work 
and  try  hard.  Of  all  things,  "  it  was  the  very  favour  I 
would  have  asked." 

I  gratefully  closed  with  the  offer,  took  my  books  and 
parts  with  me,  and  went  down  to  my  old  home  in 
Oxfordshire,  and  here  the  excellent  memory  which  I 


26      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

spoke  of  in  my  opening  pages  was  to  serve  me  well.  I 
lay  about  the  meadows  and  the  orchard  and  on  the 
banks  of  the  old  mill  stream,  and  went  to  Edinburgh 
for  my  opening  on  September  22,  1873,  perfect  in  the 
words  of  twenty-six  leading  parts. 


IV 

This  may  be  a  good  place,  perhaps,  for  a  few  words 
on  the  subject  of  the  old  stock  companies.  One  so 
constantly  hears  the  question  mooted  and  discussed 
(and  often  by  people  who  know  nothing  whatever  about 
it)  that  a  few  words  by  one  who  does  may  be  of  interest. 
Let  me  say  at  once  that,  in  my  judgment,  the  stock 
companies  of  the  last  generation  were  by  "  all  odds  " 
the  finest  schools  of  the  drama  that  ever  existed.  In 
them  work  was  continuous,  varied,  and  earnest,  and 
nearly  always  under  the  guidance  of  an  experienced 
stage  manager  who  could,  and  did,  give  the  aspirant 
the  benefit  of  his  knowledge,  and,  be  it  remembered,  the 
companies  were,  generally  speaking,  made  up  of  artists 
of  considerable  attainment  as  well  as  almost  unlimited 
practice.  When  I  have  sometimes  had  occasion  to 
speak  of  the  work  we  used  to  get  through,  young  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  to-day  have  sneeringly  said,  "  Yes, 
but  how  was  it  done  ?  "  I  have  always  replied — and  I 
state  here  without  the  slightest  reservation — that  if  we 
had  dared  to  give  the  slipshod,  colourless,  invertebrate 
performances  I  see  very  often  on  the  stage  nowadays, 
we  should  have  "  got  our  notice  "  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  write  this  sentence. 

The  last  two  of  these  fine  stock  companies  were  at 

Bristol  and  Edinburgh.     Bristol  was  under  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

27 


28      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Chute  and  Edinburgh,  as  I  have  said,  under  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wyndham;  and  these  two  companies  between  them 
suppHed  many  of  the  prominent  artists  of  the  contem- 
porary stage.  From  Bristol  came  Ellen  Terry,  Madge 
Robertson  (Mrs.  Kendal),  Miss  Henrietta  Hodson  (Mrs. 
Henry  Labouchere),  William  and  George  Rignold, 
Charles  Coghlan,  etc.  From  Edinburgh  came  Henry 
Irving,  J.  L.  Toole,  A.  W.  Pinero,  John  Ryder,  Mrs. 
Scott  Siddons,  and  many  others. 

The  Royal,  Edinburgh,  was  very  nearly  ideal  as 
a  training  ground.  Everything  was  punctual  and 
methodical.  We  could  never  have  got  through  the 
work  we  did  if  it  had  not  been  so.  Consequently  it  was 
the  easiest  possible  theatre  to  work  in.  No  one  took 
liberties ;   they  were  not  permitted. 

Robert  Wyndham  himself  was  quite  a  good  actor 
when  he  chose  to  work,  but  he  had  grown  fond  of  his 
ease  when  I  knew  him.  He  was  a  splendid  Mercutio, 
Rolando  {Honeymoon),  and  good  in  all  light  comedy 
parts  of  the  old  plays ;  an  excellent  farce  actor  in  parts 
such  as  Felix  O'Callaghan  {His  Last  Legs),  and  an 
admirable  Irish  comedian  (he  was  an  Irishman).  Mrs. 
Wyndham  was,  really,  rather  a  stagey  actress,  but  she 
seldom  acted.  She  confined  her  efforts  almost  entirely 
to  stage  management,  and  in  all  my  life  I  have  never 
met  a  person  with  such  a  general  and  complete  know- 
ledge of  this  branch  of  our  work  and  such  a  splendid 
method  of  imparting  that  knowledge  to  others.  She 
knew  every  phase  of  the  drama,  from  Hamlet  to  the 
children's  ballet  of  the  pantomime.  She  had  the  classic 
plays  at  her  finger-tips,  and  her  brain  was  a  veritable 
treasure  house  of  the  effects  and  points  made  by  all  the 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      29 

great  actors  of  her  time,  and  she  was  never  happier  than 
when  helping  those  who  tried.  She  had  a  most  direct 
method,  and  her  favourite  expression,  "  This  is  what 
you  do,  and  this  is  why  you  do  it,"  conveyed  as  much 
as  many  stage  directors  could  conjure  up  in  a  whole 
day,  and  was  generally  found  to  be  as  effective  and 
sound  as  the  result  of  any  amount  of  reflection. 

In  my  early  days  I  worked  under  three  great  stage 
managers — Mrs.  Wyndham,  Charles  Calvert  (of  Man- 
chester), and  Dion  Boucicault  (the  elder),  and,  with  every 
respect  to  modern  opinion  I  do  not  think  any  one  since 
could  compare  with  any  of  the  three.  To  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham I  owe  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude  for  much  kindly 
consideration  and  advice,  and  I  shall  always  feel  that 
whatever  I  may  have  done  in  my  life  in  the  direction 
of  pleasing  my  public  dates  from  her  expert  instruc- 
tion. 

One  great  difference  to  be  noticed  between  the  old 
and  modern  day  stage  managers  is  that,  whereas  the 
old  ones  came  to  the  theatre  with  their  ideas  cut  and 
dried  and  ready  to  be  rehearsed  straight  away,  the 
modern  man  nearly  always  moves  his  characters  about 
like  pa,wns  on  a  chess-board  till  he  finds  his  effects,  and 
thereby  takes  hours  and  days  about  what  used  to  take 
minutes. 

One  good  story  of  Mrs.  Wyndham  before  passing  on. 
A  clown  had  come  down  from  London  for  the  Christmas 
pantomime  calling  himself  Signor  Thomasini.  I  shrewdly 
suspect  his  name  was  Thomas  and  his  "  native  heath  " 
somewhere  near  the  Whitechapel  Road.  The  production 
of  the  pantomime  was  approaching.  A  rehearsal  was 
called    for    the    "  comic    scenes "    at    11   o'clock — the 


30      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

"  opening  "  at  12  o'clock.  At  12  o'clock,  punctual  as 
ever,  Mrs.  W.  came  on  the  stage  and  found  it  littered 
with  the  debris  of  the  comic  scenes — perambulators, 
bandboxes,  dolls,  sausages,  etc.  Calling  Henderson, 
the  prompter,  she  said,  in  her  most  austere,  inflexible 
manner — 

Mrs.  W.  :  Mr.  Henderson,  it  is  12  o'clock;  why  is 
the  stage  not  ready  for  me  ? 

Henderson  :  I  can't  help  it,  madam.  You  must 
speak  to  the  Signor. 

Mrs.  W.  :  Will  you  bring  the  Signor  to  me  ? 
{Advance  the  Signor,  obsequiously.) 

Mrs.  W,  :  Signor  Thomasini,  I  wish  you  to  understand, 
once  and  for  all,  that  I  am  an  absolutely  punctual 
woman.  I  give  you  an  hour  for  your  comic  scenes.  I 
call  them  at  11  o'clock,  and  my  "  opening  "  at  12  o'clock, 
and  I  expect  to  begin  at  12  o'clock.  Please  remember 
that  in  future. 

The  Signor  {in  choice  Cockney  dialect)  :  I  couldn't 
'elp  it,  Mrs.  Wyndham;  they  'adn't  got  my  bloomin' 
slums  and  fakes  ready,  an'  I  couldn't  get  on. 

Mrs.  W.  {coldly,  without  the  smallest  change  in  her 
face  or  manner)  :  Mr.  Henderson,  why  were  the  Signor's 
"  blooming  slums  and  fakes  "  not  ready  for  him  at  the 
appointed  time  ? 

The  Edinburgh  audiences  of  those  days  were  quite 
up  to  the  average  in  intelligence  and  artistic  apprecia- 
tion, and  it  used  to  be  said,  with  some  degree  of  truth, 
that  any  one  who  could  "  pass  muster  in  Edinburgh 
could  do  well  anywhere."  There  was  a  certain  amount 
of  reason  for  this.     Edinburgh  has  always  been  in  the 


MRS.    SCOTT    SID  DON'S 


[To  jice  page  31 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      31 

van  in  matters  educational,  and,  even  then,  high-class 
education  was  to  be  had  there  for  much  less  expenditure 
than  in  the  South.  The  consequence  was  that  many 
people  of  good  family  and  limited  means  had  settled 
there  to  enjoy  those  advantages  in  the  bringing  up  of 
their  children,  and  the  number  of  educated,  thinking, 
and  intellectual  minds  amongst  the  usual  theatre 
audiences  was  quite  a  goodly  one. 

I  entered  on  my  engagement  there  full  of  hope  and 
determination.  My  opening  part  was  Romeo,  with 
Mrs.  Scott  Siddons  as  Juliet.  I  received  a  somewhat 
cold  welcome,  but  in  the  course  of  Mrs.  Siddons's  fort- 
night's engagement  (in  which  I  played  some  eight  or 
nine  parts  of  the  classic  drama,  as  well  as  in  one  manu- 
script play.  Ordeal  by  Touch,  by  Richard  Lee),  I  began 
to  feel  the  audience  warming  towards  me,  and  began, 
also,  to  feel  my  feet.  I  had  followed  a  good  (if  rather 
stagey)  leading  man,  and  perhaps  what  I  lacked  in  skill 
I  made  up  in  freshness  and  sincerity;  at  all  events,  I 
soon  found  myself  appreciably  growing  in  favour,  and  it 
was  the  beginning  of  as  happy  a  time  as  I  can  call  to 
mind  in  all  my  career.  Did  an  actor  ever  know  a  better 
time,  or  feel  a  greater  amount  of  personal  gratification 
than  was  his  lot  as  a  favourite  in  one  of  the  old  stock 
companies  ?  I  doubt  it  very  much,  no  matter  what  his 
future  might  have  in  store.  Every  man  and  woman  in 
the  place  was  his  friend,  and  in  his  little  realm  he  was 
"  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed." 

Mrs.  Scott  Siddons  was  a  sweet  little  gentlewoman, 
with  a  beautiful  classic  set  of  features  and  a  petite, 
pretty  figure.  She  was  not  a  powerful  actress,  but  had 
very  distinct  charm  and  a  delightfully  educated  and 


32      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

refined  method.  She  just  missed  taking  the  place  on  the 
stage  to  which  she  aspired,  and,  later  on,  fell  under  the 
ban  of  domestic  trouble,  but  I  fancy  very  many  people 
who  remember  her  treasure  a  warm  spot  in  their  hearts 
for  a  very  clever  and  charming  little  lady. 

Apart  from  our  own  productions  during  the  season 
I  met  as  stars  besides  Mrs.  Siddons,  J.  L.  Toole  (of  him 
more  anon),  Henry  Talbot  (a  tragedian  who  scarcely 
reached  front  rank — his  real  name  was  Calvert,  and 
he  was  the  son  of  a  master  of  the  Edinburgh  High  School, 
hence  he  had  a  particular  "  hold  "  on  Scottish  audiences) ; 
Ada  Cavendish  (with  her  great  London  success,  The 
New  Magdalen),  and  the  absolutely  incomparable  Charles 
Mathews.  What  can  I  say  of  him  that  has  not  been 
said,  or  how  convey  a  notion  of  his  brilliance  as  a  light 
comedian  ?  He  probably  never  had — and  perhaps  never 
will  have — a  rival  in  his  own  line  of  parts.  His  art 
was  the  essence  of  "  art  concealed,"  and  his  naturalness 
was  such  that,  in  playing  with  him,  until  you  got  used 
to  his  method  you  positively  could  not  distinguish  if  he 
were  casually  chatting  with  you  or  speaking  the  words 
of  his  part.  Indeed,  this  naturalness  caused  his  failure, 
to  a  great  extent,  on  his  visit  to  America,  where,  outside 
the  few  central  cities,  the  audiences  and  the  Press 
declared  he  was  not  "  acting  at  all,  but  just  conducting 
himself  as  he  would  in  his  own  room,"  Remember,  this 
was  some  years  ago.  He  was  not  seen  at  his  best  in 
scenes  of  sentiment  or  pathos,  but  certainly  for  dexterity, 
aplomb,  and  splendidly  marshalled  and  rehearsed 
(though  apparently  unconscious)  humour  I  have  never 
seen  his  equal  and,  frankly,  I  don't  expect  to.  It  was 
(in  one  word)  delicious.     I  had  met  him,  personally,  at 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      33 

Palgrave  Simpson's  reunions  in  London  before  his  visit 
to  Edinburgh.  In  the  latter  place  I  played  in  nearly 
every  one  of  his  light  plays  with  him,  and  we  became 
very  firm  friends.  He  was  the  most  charming  com- 
panion imaginable — full  of  fun,  anecdote,  and  artistic 
recollection,  and  I  rejoiced  in  his  company,  as  everybody 
did  who  had  the  privilege  of  it. 

One  very  funny  incident  occurred  during  his  engage- 
ment at  this  time.  He  was  travelling  alone  (Mrs. 
Mathews  had  remained  in  London),  and  such  was  his 
temperament  that  when  awake  he  hated  to  be  solitary, 
so  he  used  to  ask  me  round  to  his  rooms  to  supper  very 
frequently.  Invitations  which,  it  is  needless  to  say,  I 
eagerly  accepted.  One  night  he  had  given  his  landlord 
an  order  for  the  theatre  to  see  him  act.  As  we  took  our 
seats  for  supper,  the  said  landlord  hung  about  the  table 
in  an  indefinite  way,  like  a  man  who  wants  to  say  some- 
thing, and  the  following  little  dialogue  took  place — ■ 

Charles  Mathews  :  Well  !  well  !  did  you  come  to 
the  theatre  ? 

Landlord  {very  Scotch,  nervously  handling  the  cruets, 
etc.)  :  Yes,  sirr  !     I  was  at  the  theatre  ! 

C.  M.  :  Well,  did  you  get  a  good  seat  ? 

Landlord  {still  very  nervous)  :  Yes,  sirr  !  I  had  a 
fine  seat. 

C.  M.  :  Well,  did  you  enjoy  yourself,  eh  ? 

Landlord  :  Weel,  Mr.  Mathews,  I  could  scarcely 
keep  frae  laughing  ! 

Those  who  remember  Mathews  and  his  mirth-provok- 
ing work  will  appreciate  the  point  of  this  story.  For 
ourselves,  we  kept  our  faces  as  well  as  we  could  till  the 
landlord  left  the  room,  and  then  simply  exploded  with 


34      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

laughter.  I  told  this  story  in  after  years  to  Charles 
Dickens,  jun.,  who  incorporated  it  in  The  Life  of  Charles 
Mathews,  which  he  wrote  and  published. 

Charles  Mathews  married  twice.  His  first  wife  was 
the  fascinating  and  beautiful  (as  well  as  clever)  Madame 
Vestris,  and  a  good  story  of  a  "  Comedy  Old  Lady's  " 
humour  is  told  anent  this.  Madame  Vestris  was  what 
is  known  nowadays  as  "  a  lady  with  a  past  " — and  quite 
a  good  deal  of  it.  When  the  wedding  took  place  it  was 
much  too  delicious  a  piece  of  scandal  for  the  company 
at  the  Lyceum  (where  he  had  been  playing  with  her) 
to  let  go  by  without  some  "  spicy  "  comment.  Said 
one  member  of  the  company  in  the  Green  Room  before 
rehearsal  :  "  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  Charles 
Mathews  was  married  to  Madame  Vestris  this  morning." 
Said  another  :  "  Is  it  possible  ?  Dear  !  dear  !  What  a 
pity!  What  will  his  people  say?"  No.  1  replied: 
"  They  say  she  told  him  everything."  No.  2  rejoined  : 
"  Well,  that  was  frank  and  honest  anyhow."  First 
Old  Lady  (Mrs.  Glover)  from  the  corner  :  "  Yes  !  and 
good  gracious  !   what  a  memory  !  " 

At  this  time  neither  husband  nor  wife  had  the  least 
regard  for  the  value  of  money,  and  both  were  frightfully 
extravagant,  consequently  Mathews  was  always  in  debt 
and — one  can't  say — difficulties,  because  nothing  of  that 
kind  ever  worried  C.  M.  They  seemed  to  go  on  the 
principle  that  if  they  paid  nobody  there  could  be  no 
jealousy.  Wondrous  are  the  stories  of  his  splendid 
audacity  in  dealing  with  angry  creditors.  On  one 
occasion  he  was  incarcerated  for  debt  in  a  country  gaol, 
and  such  was  his  persuasive  magnetism  that  he  went 
to  the  local  races  with  the  governor  of  the  prison. 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      35 

Another  time  a  very  irate  dun  forced  his  way  into  the 
office  at  the  Lyceum,  swearing  he  would  not  leave  without 
his  money.  But  he  did,  and  when  he  came  to  his  senses 
(outside)  he  discovered  he  had  lent  Mathews  another 
£100. 

One  morning  a  very  gruff,  surly,  angry  man  met  C.  M. 
on  the  doorsteps  of  his  house  at  Kensington  with  the 
remark  :  "  Mr.  Mathews,  you  are  the  man  I'm  looking 
for."  Mathews  replied  :  "  Really,  how  you  startled 
me!  What's  the  matter?"  The  surly  one  said: 
"  Matter,  Mr.  Mathews,  last  quarter's  rates  is  the 
matter  !  Quite  a  trifle  for  a  gentleman  in  your  position. 
Eight  pounds  four  shillings,  and  I've  been  here  a  dozen 
times  after  it,  and  I'm  not  coming  again.  I  want  the 
money  here  and  now  !  "  Mathews  looked  at  him  quite 
surprised,  and  replied,  airily  :  "  God  bless  my  soul  ! 
Eight  pounds  four — for  rates,  and  you've  been  here 
a  dozen  times  after  it.  I  should  have  thought  it 
would  have  paid  you  better  to  have  paid  the  money 
yourself." 

On  the  occasion  of  his  going  to  Australia  he  was 
tendered  a  farewell  banquet,  at  which  he  proposed  his 
own  health  in  a  marvellously  humorous  and  witty 
speech. 

Mr.  Mathews  married  his  second  wife  in  America. 
This  charming  lady  reigned  as  a  great  favourite  amongst 
a  large  circle  of  friends  for  many  years  in  London,  and 
was  the  mother  of  Sir  C.  W.  Mathews,  a  very  popular 
and  successful  member  of  the  English  Bar,  and  the 
present  well-known  and  able  Director  of  Public  Prosecu- 
tions. 

If  ever  a  man's  amiable  weaknesses  and  foibles  were 


36      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

offset  by  his  delightful  contributions  to  the  gaiety  of 
nations  that  man  was  Charles  Mathews. 

During  my  time  in  Edinburgh  I  made  many  sincere 
and  pleasant  friends,  amongst  them  W.  B.  Hole  (the 
Royal  Scottish  academician),  whose  paintings  and 
etchings  are  so  well  known  and  valued,  and  whose  noble 
work  adorns  some  of  the  public  institutions  of  Edinburgh 
in  the  form  of  frescoes,  etc.  Only  a  short  time  ago  a 
beautiful  exhibition  was  held  in  London  of  a  large  set 
of  his  pictures  illustrative  of  the  life  of  Christ,  which 
was  greatly  admired  and  praised,  and  gave  infinite 
pleasure  to  all,  including  the  writer. 

We  had  many  confidences  in  our  aspiring  salad  days 
of  Art,  and  though  in  different  branches  it  was  very 
pleasant  to  be  able  to  congratulate  each  other  on 
working  our  way  to  the  front. 

Another  valued  friend  in  Edinburgh  was  the  well- 
known  lawyer  (or  Writer  to  the  Signet),  Kenmure  Mait- 
land.  He  was  a  clever  literary  man  as  well,  and  con- 
tributed frequently  to  the  Scottish  newspapers,  and 
also  wrote  the  Royal  pantomimes.  His  son  married 
Miss  Wyndham.  Very  witty,  with  a  fund  of  anecdote, 
he  was  one  of  the  best  raconteurs  I  have  ever  known. 
One  of  his  fine  stories  was  a  little  against  himself,  which 
he  enjoyed.  He  was  coming  out  of  the  Scotsman  office 
one  winter's  night,  and  got  to  the  head  of  a  steep  wynd 
(or  alley).  It  had  snowed  and  thawed  and  frozen 
again  and  again,  and  the  pavement  was  like  glass.  As 
his  feet  touched  the  ground  they  flew  from  under  him 
and  he  sat  down  violently,  and  slid  down  to  some 
railings  at  the  lower  extremity  of  the  alley.  He  got  up 
with  an  exclamation  of  agony,  and  was  paying  sym- 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      37 

pathetic  attention  to  the  part  of  his  anatomy  which  had 
recently  been  his  toboggan,  when  a  Httle  urchin  rushed 
out  of  a  doorway  and  said,  "  Mon,  I  ken't  ye'd  fa'.  I 
fell  tae  !  " 

Probably  one  of  the  best  of  all  my  friends,  though,  was 
a  perfectly  splendid  landlady.  Dear  old  Mrs.  Fin- 
layson  !  Nothing  was  ever  a  trouble  to  her,  and  I  really 
think  she  had  a  genuine  affection  for  me.  Many  a  time 
when  I  was  studying  my  parts  hard  into  the  night,  she 
would  come  into  my  sitting-room  at  three,  or  even  four 
o'clock,  in  the  morning  with  a  cup  of  appetising  soup 
or  broth,  and  say  in  her  quiet  way  :  "I  brocht  ye  this, 
and  I  thocht  it  would  be  well  for  ye  to  gang  awa'  to  your 
bed  th'  noo,"  But  she  had  a  tremendously  Scotch 
reverence  for  the  Sabbath,  or  shall  I  say,  a  tremendous 
respect  for  her  neighbours'  reverence  for  it.  One 
Sunday  night  I  had  a  little  party  of  friends  to  dinner  to 
help  me  eat  some  game  which  had  been  sent  me.  In 
my  room  was  an  old  instrument  which  masqueraded  as 
a  piano.  It  was,  in  reality,  a  pretty  good  imitation  of 
Thackeray's  "  rickety,  ramshackle,  wheezy  spinet." 
One  of  my  friends,  who  was  musical,  sat  down  to  play 
it.  In  a  minute  Mrs.  Finlayson  was  in  the  room,  saying  : 
"  Mr.  Barnes,  I'd  thank  ye  if  ye  would  na  play  the  music 
on  the  Sawbath."  Of  course,  my  friend  stopped,  and 
later  in  the  evening  quite  inadvertently  struck  a  note 
or  two.  Again  she  came  in,  saying,  "  Did  I  no' 
ask  ye  not  to  play  the  music  on  the  Sawbath  ?  "  I 
think  I  replied  rather  impatiently  that  there  was  no 
harm  in  it,  and  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  She  glided 
out  of  the  room,  and  in  a  few  moments  glided  back, 
saying,    "  My    monny,    I    brocht    ye    twa    packs    o' 


38  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

cards  !  "    Oh,  bless  her  !     The  neighbours  did  not  hear 
them  1 

Just  as  the  season  was  drawing  to  a  close  I  got  an 
offer  from  H.  J.  Byron  to  return  to  London  for  the 
opening  of  the  new  Criterion.  Mrs,  Wyndham  suggested 
I  should  take  a  farewell  benefit,  which  I  did,  playing 
Claude  Melnotte  in  The  Lady  of  Lyons  to  a  very  full 
and  enthusiastic  house  and  every  possible  demonstration 
of  goodwill.  With  a  big  lump  in  my  throat  I  made  a 
little  speech  of  farewell,  and  with  a  grateful  heart  and 
a  little  added  capital  closed  as  pleasant  a  time  as  I  had 
ever  known.  I  had  not  had  a  large  salary.  I  did  not 
want  much  in  those  days,  but  I  had  received  instruction 
and  assistance  for  which  money  could  hardly  pay,  and 
had  tried  zealously  to  consider  and  follow  the  good 
advice  given  me.  I  had  a  sort  of  tacit  understanding 
with  Mrs.  Wyndham  to  return  to  her  next  season,  and 
at  the  time  I  fully  intended  to  do  so,  but  it  was  not  to 
be.  I  was  on  the  "  crest  of  the  wave  "  of  success  which 
was  hurrying  me  on  from  one  point  to  another  with 
bewildering  rapidity,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but 
thankfully  accept  the  good  luck  which  continued  to 
come  my  way. 


The  Criterion  was  opened  on  March  21,   1874,   by 

Messrs.    Spiers   and   Pond,    the   famous   restaurateurs, 

under  the  direction  of  H.  J.  Byron.     The  restaurant, 

of  which  it  formed  a  part,  had  been  in  full  swing  some 

time  previously.     The  opening  bill  was  a  pleasant  light 

comedy  by  Byron,  entitled  An  American  Lady.     It  was 

to  have  been  supplemented  by  a  short  burlesque,  or 

travesty,  by  W.  S.  Gilbert,  entitled  Topsy-turveydom, 

but  the  decorators,  etc.,  were  behind  with  their  work, 

which  made  it  impossible  to  get  complete  rehearsals, 

and  it  was  decided  to  play  only  the  comedy  on  the  first 

night,  postponing  the  burlesque  to  a  few  nights  later. 

With  plenty  of  capital  to  draw  on,   no  expense  was 

spared,  and   a   most  efficient  company  were  engaged. 

Byron  himself,  John  Clarke,  David  Fisher,  the  writer, 

Mrs.  John  Wood,  Mrs.  Gaston  Murray,  and  Miss  Jane 

Rignold  formed  quite  a  strong  team  for  a  slight  though 

bright  and  pretty  comedy.     Of  these  well-remembered 

and  well-graced  comrades,  only  two  are  left — Mrs.  John 

Wood  and  I.     What  a  comedienne  she  was,  and  what  a 

born   humorist  !     With  her  beautiful  complexion  and 

her  glorious  black  hair  and  dark  eyes,  as  well  as  her 

splendid  figure,    she   was  the   embodiment   of   radiant 

womanhood,  which  seemed  to  permeate  the  whole  of 

her  dramatic  method.     If  she  had  a  good  line  to  speak, 

39 


40     FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

or  a  good  scene  to  play,  how  she  would  make  it  "  go  "  ! 
and  how  many  a  bad  scene  she  has  made  to  appear  a 
good  one  by  her  dashing  and  hearty  handling  of  it.  She 
was  another  artist  who  drew  money,  irrespective  of  the 
play  she  was  in.  The  public  loved  her  for  herself  alone, 
and  whether  singing  (inimitably)  "  His  heart  was  true 
to  Poll  "  in  the  burlesque  of  My  Poll  and  my  Partner  Joe, 
or  playing  in  comedy  or  drama,  she  was  a  host  in  herself. 
To  her  comrades  on  the  stage  she  was  a  fountain  of  fun. 
Rehearsals  in  which  she  was  concerned  were  positive 
holidays,  and  if  (as  in  the  case  of  An  American  Lady) 
she  was  associated  with  a  wit  like  Byron,  it  was  very 
difficult  indeed  to  get  to  serious  work  at  all.  I  could 
name  more  than  one  actress  of  to-day,  earning  a  large 
salary,  whose  position  is  due  entirely  to  as  good  an 
Imitation  as  she  can  manage  to  give  of  Mrs.  John  Wood. 

In  An  American  Lady,  a  quip  of  Byron's  provoked 
one  of  the  biggest  laughs  I  have  ever  heard  in  a  theatre. 
It  ran  thus — 

Mrs.  Wood  {very  emphatically)  :  Why,  we  Americans 
speak  better  English  than  you  do  ! 

Byron  :  Do  you,  though  ? 

Mrs.  Wood  :  Of  course,  we  do  !  Whose  pronounc- 
ing dictionary  is  invariably  considered  the  best?  An 
American's  ?  Webster  !  What  have  you  got  to  say  to 
Webster  ? 

Byron  {very  quietly,  almost  demurely) :   Walker  ! 

I  have  been  told  that  the  ceiling  of  the  Criterion  is, 
or  was,  eighteen  inches  below  the  level  of  Piccadilly. 
Luckily  it  was  not  directly  underneath,  or  the  pavement 
might  have  been  in  danger  at  the  shout  of  laughter 
which  went  up.     Mrs.  Wood  was  never  happier  than 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      41 

when  telling  a  good  story,  even  against  herself,  and  was 
at  all  times  a  thoroughly  good-tempered,  whole-hearted, 
womanly  comrade,  with  whom  it  was  a  delight  to  work. 

When  W.  S.  Gilbert's  burlesque  Topsy-turveydom  was 
produced  after  a  few  nights,  that  sweet  singer.  Miss 
Fanny  Holland  (Mrs.  Arthur  Law),  made  her  first 
appearance  on  the  regular  theatrical  stage,  having  been 
recruited  from  the  German  Reed  entertainment  at 
St.  George's  Hall.  I  spoke  the  first  word  (with  the 
curtain  up)  on  the  Criterion  stage,  as  I  had  done  at  the 
Londesborough,  Scarborough — an  odd  (if  trifling)  co- 
incidence— as  it  was  within  three  years  of  my  first 
appearance.  The  opening  season  at  the  Criterion  was 
only  moderately  successful,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1874 
I  had  engaged  myself,  after  consulting  Mrs.  Wyndham's 
wishes,  to  go  to  the  Prince's,  Manchester  (then  under 
the  direction  of  that  great  stage  manager,  Charles 
Calvert),  to  open  as  Mercutio  in  a  revival  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet.  But,  once  again,  my  great  good  luck  stepped 
in  to  set  that  arrangement  aside. 

That  admirable  actor  Charles  Coghlan  had  settled 
to  accompany  Miss  Adelaide  Neilson  to  America  as 
leading  man.  As  the  time  approached,  he  repudiated 
and  declined  the  engagement  for  some  cause  that  I 
never  learned.  On  the  strength  of  Mrs.  Wyndham's 
reputation  as  an  instructress,  and  the  quality  of  work 
I  had  done  under  her  direction,  I  was  sent  for  by  John 
Ryder  (Miss  Neilson's  teacher  and  general  adviser),  and 
asked  if  I  was  willing  to  rehearse  some  scenes  for  him, 
that  he  might  judge  if  I  was  qualified  for  this  important 
position.  I  cheerfully  assented.  After  trying  me  in 
Romeo,  Orlando,  etc.,  he  pronounced  me  capable  and 


42      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

satisfactory;  he  procured  my  release  from  my  engage- 
ment with  Calvert  (with  whom  he  had  influence),  and 
it  was  settled  that  I  should  accompany  Miss  Neilson 
to  America  as  her  leading  support.  Here  was  a  "  leg 
up  "  indeed  !     Truly,  I  was  getting  on  ! 

I  set  to  work  with  a  will  to  qualify  for  my  promotion, 
and  in  September  sailed  in  the  old  s.s.  Russia  for  New 
York.  The  Russia  was  then  the  crack  boat  of  the  Cunard 
fleet,  and  her  captain  (Captain  Cook)  the  Commodore. 
Among  the  passengers  was  ex-Governor  (of  the  State 
of  New  York)  Hoffman,  Sir  Roderick  Cameron,  and  Mr. 
William  Schaus,  a  great  art  critic  and  judge  of  pictures, 
founder  of  the  firm  which,  in  later  years,  discovered  the 
stolen  Gainsborough  picture  "  The  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire." I  had  my  first  experience  of  a  reading  on  board, 
in  association  with  Miss  Neilson,  when  a  large  sum  of 
money  was  collected  for  the  Seamen's  Orphanage.  I 
also  had  my  first  experience  of  sea-sickness,  and  a  terrible 
one  it  was.  Temporarily  I  regretted  the  engagement 
which  had  brought  me  to  sea,  and  to  the  point  where  the 
future  (if  there  was  one)  seemed  to  have  nothing  in  store. 
However,  it  is  the  illness  we  most  easily  forget,  and  once 
in  New  York  a  new  life  opened  up  to  me,  full  of  interest, 
variety,  and  charm,  which  I  ask  permission  to  describe 
a  little  before  continuing  my  purely  professional  notes. 

Progress  has  been  so  rapid  in  the  United  States  that 
even  I  can  hardly  realise  a  New  York  with  no  elevated 
railway,  with  Delmonico's  at  the  corner  of  14th 
Street  and  5th  Avenue,  the  "  Lotos  "  Club  in  a  little 
house  in  Irving  Place,  next  door  to  the  Academy  of 
Music  and  23rd  Street,  considered,  if  anything,  too 
far  up  town  for  a  location  of  a  theatre.     Yet  that  was 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      43 

the  city  as  I  first  knew  it,  a  place  of  infinite  delight 
and  hospitality  and  kindness.  I  was  made  an  honorary 
member  of  the  Lotos,  New  York,  Union,  and  Union 
League  clubs,  and  courtesies  were  shown  me  on  every 
side.  At  the  Lotos  the  late  greatly  respected  and 
admired  Ambassador  to  Great  Britain,  the  Hon.  White - 
law  Reid,  then  editor  (only)  of  The  Tribune,  had  just 
been  elected  President,  and  was  a  frequent  visitor. 
Here,  in  the  afternoon,  one  might  foregather  with 
(amongst  others)  John  Brougham,  Bronson  Howard, 
Billy  Florence,  J.  T.  Raymond,  E.  A,  Sothern,  Barney 
Williams,  Mark  Smith,  "  Uncle  "  Dan  Bixby,  William 
Winter,  A.  C.  Wheeler  ("  Nym  Crinkle  "),  E.  Carroll, 
etc.,  and  what  delightful  times  they  were  !  John 
Brougham  was  a  witty,  happy  Irishman,  with  a  budget 
of  fine  stories,  which  he  told  splendidly.  He  did  not 
need  an  income — his  popularity  was  such  that  he  could 
pass  his  whole  time  as  a  guest  of  one  or  another  of  his 
numerous  friends.  It  was  said  at  the  time,  that,  apart 
from  the  plays  which  bear  his  name,  he  had  not  a  little 
to  do  with  the  writing  of  London  Assurance.  I  do  not 
know  if  it  was  true,  and  I  give  it  for  what  it  is  worth, 
but  it  was  often  referred  to  in  his  presence,  and  I  never 
heard  of  his  contradicting  it.  From  what  I  remember 
of  him,  I  should  be  inclined  to  think  he  was  far  too 
honourable  and  punctilious  a  man  to  have  "  sailed  under 
false  colours  "  in  such  a  matter. 

Referring  for  a  moment  to  London  Assurance  it  must 
have  often  struck  people  who  have  seen  or  studied  the 
play  as  a  strange  incongruity  that  Sir  Harcourt  Courtley 
goes  all  through  it,  as  an  old  rou6  and  libertine  (in  every 
way  unworthy),  and  then  speaks    the  honest  man's 


44      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

"  Tag  "  at  the  end.  My  old  friend  of  years  ago,  Horace 
Wigan,  a  well-read  man  and  one  well  versed  in  theatrical 
matters,  gave  me  the  following  explanation  of  this  : — 
When  William  Farren  (the  elder)  was  in  the  zenith  of 
his  fame  and  the  play  was  first  produced  at  Covent 
Garden,  he  (William  Farren)  absolutely  refused,  at 
one  of  the  last  rehearsals,  to  play  the  part  of  Sir  Har- 
court,  unless  he  spoke  the  tag.  Hence  the  apparent 
glaring  anomaly  !  It  would  seem  that  even  in  those 
days  professional  jealousy  was  not  unknown. 

To  return  to  the  Lotos  Club.  I  have  known  it  in 
four  locations — Irving  Place,  two  different  positions  on 
5th  Avenue,  and  its  present  palatial  home  in  57th 
Street.  In  all  of  them  I  have  had  the  privilege  of 
visiting  membership,  and  have  received  at  each  in- 
numerable marks  of  friendship  and  goodwill.  Whitelaw 
Reid  was  a  tower  of  strength,  especially  when  pre- 
siding at  the  banquets  tendered  from  time  to  time  to 
distinguished  visitors.  A  graceful,  eloquent  speaker,  he 
had  that  touch  of  human  nature  which  makes  the  whole 
world  kin,  and  he  was  greatly  missed  at  the  club,  I 
fancy,  when  his  numerous  and  higher  duties  drew  him 
perforce  in  other  directions.  Bronson  Howard  was  the 
distinguished  dramatist,  author  of  Saratoga  (known  in 
England  as  Brighton),  and  a  very  fine  American  war- 
play  Shenandoah,  not  seen  in  England,  why,  I  can  never 
understand.  He  wrote  many  other  good  plays.  E.  A. 
Sothern  was,  of  course,  the  original  Lord  Dundreary, 
that  wonderful  chap  who  said  the  wisest  things  in  the 
manner  and  make-up  of  the  veriest  fool.  Sothern  was 
also  the  original  (and  a  splendid)  David  Garrick.  Mark 
Smith  was  a  prominent  member  of  Wallack's  Theatre 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      45 

Company.  Barney  Williams  and  his  wife,  distinguished 
Irish  comedians,  came  to  England  years  before  and  made 
a  pleasing  success.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  "  Billy  "  Florence  did 
the  same  later.  Mrs.  Barney  Williams  and  Mrs.  "  Billy  " 
Florence  were  sisters.  Uncle  Dan  Bixby  (unattached) 
was  a  kind  fellow,  always  doing  some  service  for  his 
friends,  and  never  happier  than  at  such  times.  William 
Winter  is,  happily,  still  with  us,  living  in  well-earned 
comparative  retirement  at  his  pleasant  home  on  Staten 
Island,  New  York  Harbour.  He  recently  published  a 
charming  book  of  reminiscences.  For  the  best  part  of 
his  later  life  (many  years)  he  was  the  dramatic  critic 
of  the  New  York  Tribune,  as  well  as  the  writer  of  many 
delightful  books  of  poems  and  wanderings  in  England. 
His  pen  and  mental  force  could  always  be  found  on  the 
side  of  what  was  good,  noble,  and  worthy,  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  what  was  false,  meretricious  and  ignoble,  and 
the  actor's  calling  loses  a  firm  friend  and  champion  by 
his  withdrawal  from  public  life.  A.  C.  Wheeler  ("  Nym 
Crinkle  ")  was  the  critic  of  the  New  York  World  in  those 
days — very  clever  and  capable,  and  also  very  sarcastic 
and  acid  on  occasion.  Ned  Sothern  had  a  mania  for 
practical  jokes,  and  would  spend  any  amount  of  thought, 
time,  or  even  money  to  perfect  one.  He  and  J.  T. 
Raymond  used  to  match  (or  toss)  each  other  for  a  dollar 
whenever  they  met,  and  they  had  been  known  to  do  so 
by  signs  in  a  theatre  when  one  was  acting  on  the  stage 
and  the  other  seated  in  a  private  box. 


VI 

Many  of  Sothern's  practical  jokes  became  notorious 
in  his  day.  One  of  his  elaborate  efforts  in  that  direction 
was  played  on  Billy  Florence,  and  has,  perhaps,  not  been 
freely  recorded.  It  was  as  follows  : — Billy  Florence  and 
Dion  Boucicault  had  quarrelled  violently  and  were  bitter 
enemies.  On  one  occasion  when  Mrs.  Florence  was  ill 
a-bed,  Billy  came  home  and  found  a  note  on  his  hall 
table  which  ran  thus — 

"Dear  Billy, 

"  Why  did  you  not  call  and  see  me  as  you 

promised  ? 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  Emily." 

Now  Mrs.  Billy,  though  a  good  sort,  was  inclined  to 
be  a  little  jealous  !  As  Florence  knew  no  one  named 
Emily,  he  cast  about  for  an  explanation,  and  his  sus- 
picions fell  on  Ned  Sothern,  and  he  proceeded  to  satisfy 
himself  that  he  was  right.  In  a  frightful  rage  he  wrote 
to  Sothern  saying  something  like  this — 

"Dear  Sir, 

"  You  are  no  gentleman  to  play  such  a  vile 
trick  on  a  friend.  Had  your  silly  note  fallen  into  other 
hands  than  mine,  it  might  have  caused  endless  trouble. 
You  have  taken  an  unwarrantable  liberty,  which  I  will 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      47 

never  forgive,  and  I  beg  that  when  we  meet  it  may  be 

as  strangers. 

"  Yours, 

"  W.  F." 

Next  day  he  received  a  pleasant  little  chatty  note  from 
Sothern,  saying — 

"  Dear  Billy, 

"  I  got  an  extraordinary  note  from  you  this 
morning.  Of  course,  I  saw  in  a  moment  it  was  not 
intended  for  me,  so  I  sent  it  to  Boucicault  ! 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  Ned." 

Is  not  that  "  I  sent  it  to  Boucicault  "  delicious  ? 

Boucicault  was  never  much  of  a  club  man.  At  that 
time  he  had  a  charming  little  flat  over  a  French  restaur- 
ant in  16th  Street,  just  out  of  Union  Square.  He  and 
several  good  fellows,  including  Harry  Montague,  Wright 
Sanford,  W.  H.  Marston,  sometimes  Mark  Twain,  and 
occasionally  Bret  Harte  and  the  writer  used  to  meet  at 
Delmonico's,  where  it  was  then  situated,  many  nights  in 
the  week  after  work.  Charlie  Delmonico  was  a  persona 
grata  amongst  us,  enjoyed  our  society,  and,  although  we 
had  no  understanding  to  the  effect,  he  used  to  contrive 
that  we  had  a  room  pretty  much  to  ourselves.  Here  we 
passed  some  delightful  hours,  and  here,  too,  many  bright 
things  were  said  to  appreciative  listeners.  I  remember 
Boucicault  saying,  apropos  of  play  writing  :  "  Ah  !  when 
young  men  get  tired  of  writing  clever  plays  they  may 
write  successful  ones  !  "  That  was  thirty-nine  years 
ago,  and  yet  it  is  as  true  to-day  as  it  was  when  it  was 
uttered.     How  well  the  experienced  actor  knows  that 


48      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

clever  play  which  he  rehearses  for  five  or  six  weeks  and 
which,  being  outside  the  never-faihng  ring  of  human 
nature,  is  out  of  the  bill  and  buried  in  two  weeks' 
performance. 

Another  of  Boucicault's  sage  dicta  was  anent  the  study 
of  Shakespeare  and  the  much-discussed  hidden  meanings 
that  some  people  are  constantly  finding  in  his  works. 
He  said  :  "  Never  mind  what  he  meant  here,  or  what  he 
meant  there.  You  be  content  to  read  what  he  says,  and 
as  long  as  you  live  you  will  never  discover  anything 
stronger  or  more  satisfying  than  what  he  (simply) 
says."     How  emphatically  true  ! 

The  Union  was  about  the  foremost  club  of  New  York. 
It  sheltered  nearly  all  the  New  Yorkers  of  standing. 
J  believe  the  only  member  of  my  calling  who  was  ever 
elected  a  regular  member  was  Lester  Wallack,  the  suc- 
cessful actor  and  manager  of  that  day.  I  was  introduced 
by  a  very  popular  member,  and  made  the  acquaintance 
of  many  well-known  men,  who,  one  and  all,  showed  me 
the  utmost  kindness  and  hospitality.  Pierre  Lorrilard, 
the  Belmonts,  the  Jeromes,  W.  H.  Marston,  Herman 
Oelrichs,  Lester  Wallack  amongst  them,  and  last,  though 
not  least,  that  wit  and  charming  gentleman  W.  Travers 
("  Bill  "  Travers  his  intimates  called  him).  This  was  a 
delightful  friend  indeed. 

Mr.  Travers  was  a  native  of  Baltimore,  who  had 
settled  in  New  York,  and  had  much  of  the  old-world 
courtesy  and  charm  of  the  typical  Southern  gentleman . 
He  had  a  marvellously  ready  wit ;  and  what  gave  great 
zest  to  all  his  many  hons  mots,  he  had  a  piquant,  quaint 
little  stutter.  I  wonder  a  collection  has  not  been  made 
of  his  many  clever  sayings.    They  were  of  frequent 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      49 

occurrence,  and  would  have  made  most  amusing  reading. 
On  one  occasion  he  went  with  some  friends  into  the  bar 
of  the  old  Sinclair  House  on  his  way  up  town,  and  said 
to  the  bar  tender  :  "  I  w-w-want  some  w-w-whisky." 
The  bar  tender  put  up  the  glasses  and  whisky  bottle, 
and  held  on  to  the  latter,  saying  :  "  Hold  on  !  Thirty- 
five  cents,  please  !  "  Travers  looked  at  him  disdainfully, 
and  said  at  once  :  "  W-w-what's  your  hurry  ?  Does  it 
k-k-kill  so  d-d-darned  quick  ?  " 

Another  time  he  went  with  his  son-in-law,  who  was 
considering  the  purchase  of  an  English  terrier,  to  see 
the  dog  tried  with  some  rats.  Immediately  the  dog  and 
rat  came  together  in  the  pit  the  rat  seized  the  terrier  by 
the  jaw,  and  the  dog,  unused  to  the  game,  went  round 
yelping.  Travers  watched  this  unexpected  develop- 
ment for  some  time,  and  then  said  quietly,  "  Johnnie 
w-w-why  the  d-d-deuce  don't  you  b-b-buy  the  rat  ?  " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Travers  were  much  attached,  a  perfect 
Darby  and  Joan ;  but  even  with  his  wife  he  could  not 
resist  a  joke.  One  night,  on  his  coming  home  late  from 
the  club,  Mrs.  Travers  was  asleep.  As  he  reached  her 
bedroom,  and  was  taking  off  his  clothes  to  go  to  bed 
quietly,  she  woke  up  and  said,  "  Oh,  William,  is  that 
you  ? "  "  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  w-w-who  did  you 
expect  ?  " 

One  more  story  of  him.  A.  T.  Stewart,  the  great 
dry  goods  merchant,  on  some  occasion  took  the  chair 
at  a  banquet  in  aid  of  a  hospital.  Stewart  was  not  very 
popular.  As  he  rose  to  address  the  assemblage  they  were 
not  so  quiet  or  attentive  as  he  could  wish,  so  he  knocked 
loudly  on  the  table  with  his  knife.  W.  T.,  seated  near, 
said  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  "  C-c-cash  !  " 


50      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

Stories  of  him  might  be  multiplied  by  the  score,  but 
we  must  return  to  our  muttons.  Before  I  began  my 
engagement  in  New  York  I  saw  the  acting  at  some  of 
the  theatres  there;  perhaps  the  most  notable  were 
performances  of  Macbeth  and  Lady  Macbeth,  Cardinal 
Wolsey  and  Queen  Katharine,  at  Booth's,  by  George 
Vandenhoff  (of  Boston)  and  the  famous  Charlotte 
Cushman.  Very  interesting,  indeed,  but  the  gentleman, 
though  a  good  elocutionist,  was  a  stilted,  unnatural 
actor  of  the  very  old  school,  and  Miss  Cushman  was 
really  only  a  ruin,  although  a  magnificent  one,  it  is  true. 

I  opened  as  Benedick  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothing, 
with  Miss  Neilson  as  Beatrice,  on  October  29,  1874,  at 
what  is  now  the  14th  Street  Theatre.  It  was  then  called 
the  Lyceum,  and  had  been  built  for  and  opened  by  Charles 
Fechter,  the  French  romantic  actor,  mentioned  earlier 
in  these  notes.  It  bore  the  marks  of  his  French  taste. 
The  decorations  carried  out  the  scheme  of  a  large  boudoir. 
In  the  following  week  I  played  Romeo,  and  although  I 
did  not  set  the  Hudson  on  fire  I  was  pronounced  ade- 
quate, and  something  better,  in  both  parts,  and  I  set 
my  foot  pleasantly  on  the  path  which  leads  to  "  troops 
of  friends." 

And  now  what  about  Miss  Neilson  ?  She  became  such 
a  tremendous  fact  in  theatrical  work  on  both  sides  of 
the  Atlantic,  especially  in  the  United  States,  where  she 
was  almost  a  religion,  that  one  has  been  and  is  constantly 
asked,  Was  she  a  great  actress  ?     Was  she  a  genius  ? 

First,  let  us  consider  what  is  genius.  Macready  said, 
"  Genius  meant  hard  work."  If  he  was  right,  Neilson 
was  a  genius,  very  distinctly.  Some  one  else  said, 
"  Genius  was  an  infinite  capacity  for  taking  pains." 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   51 

Neither  definition  appeals  to  me.  Genius,  as  I  understand 
it,  and  have  seen  it  in  three,  four,  or  five  instances  in 
my  Hfe  on  the  stage,  is  something  God-given.  Some 
moments  of  inspiration,  great  or  small,  which  are  not 
learnable  nor  attainable  by  work,  but  which,  in  their 
truth  to  nature,  are  all-compelling  and  carry  the  hearts 
of  men  and  women  along  with  them  with  an  irresistible 
force.  In  this  regard  Neilson  was  not  a  genius,  but  she 
was  a  good,  in  some  moments,  a  great  actress.  All  that 
work  could  do  she  did ;  but  I  arrive  at  the  above  conclu- 
sion by  the  following  applied  test : — I  rehearsed  three 
parts  with  her  under  John  Ryder,  with  whom  she 
studied  all  her  legitimate  roles,  and  until  her  death  she 
scarcely  altered  an  intonation  of  a  sentence  from  the 
way  she  had  read  it  with  him.  She  worked  so  hard  and 
threw  such  an  amount  of  earnestness  into  her  work  that 
many  thousands  of  onlookers  took  for  genius  what  was 
really  splendidly  marshalled  force. 

One  quite  extraordinary  gift  she  had,  namely,  that  of 
tears  !  At  any  given  moment  or  cue  she  could  make  the 
tears  mount  to  her  eyes,  and  even  run  down  her  cheeks, 
irrespective  of  anything  she  was  feeling  at  the  time.  It 
almost  resembled  the  turning  on  of  a  tap  ! 

Undoubtedly,  she  had  great  beauty,  wonderful  eyes, 
and  an  expressive  mouth,  fine  colouring  of  complexion 
and  hair,  and  a  rather  spare  figure.  Her  appearance 
suggested  a  woman  of  Spanish  or  Italian  type. 

She  made  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage  in  London 
in  1865,  after  a  long  course  of  lessons  under  John  Ryder, 
and  succeeded  almost  from  the  very  first. 

When  she  became  famous  all  kinds  of  romantic  stories 
were  told  of  her  Spanish  origin,  etc. ;  indeed,  I     have 


52      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

heard  her  refer  to  her  mother  at  Saragossa.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  born  of  humble  parents  in  a  village  in 
Yorkshire  in  1848,  and  her  real  name  was  Elizabeth 
Ann  Brown.  In  her  youth  she  was  by  turns  a  mill 
hand  at  Guiseley  (Yorks),  a  nursemaid,  and  a  barmaid ; 
so  the  strenuous  life  she  must  have  led  to  raise  herself 
to  the  position  she  eventually  attained  may  be  imagined. 
All  honour  to  her  for  her  perseverance,  say  I. 

She  was  a  curious  mixture  of  good  impulses  and  way- 
wardness, a  good  friend,  but  a  little  fiend  if  "  rubbed  the 
wrong  way."  Heaven  help  the  manager,  or,  indeed, 
any  one,  who  offended  her.  She  was  quite  merciless 
either  in  business  or  otherwise  if  she  were  thwarted  or 
annoyed.  She  was  most  unfortunate  in  her  marriage, 
or  perhaps  she  might  have  been  more  amenable  and 
considerate.  She  married  the  son  of  an  English  clergy- 
man when  she  was  just  reaching  her  big  position,  and  I 
am  afraid  that  it  was  impossible  to  regard  Phil  Lee  as 
either  a  good  husband  or  a  man  of  strong  character. 
What  a  difference  this  makes  to  a  woman  !  What  a 
number  of  women  I  have  met  on  the  stage  and  off  whose 
lives  and  characters  have  turned  for  good  or  ill  on  this 
all-important  point.  Phil  Lee  was  the  victim  of  one  of 
Ned  Sothern's  great  practical  jokes.  A  party  of  four  or 
five,  including  the  two  named,  were  dining  in  New  York, 
when,  on  some  trivial  pretext — if  I  remember  rightly, 
the  passing  of  the  mustard — an  apparently  fearful 
quarrel  was  worked  up,  ending  with  revolvers  and  knives 
being  freely  brandished  by  all  except  Lee,  who,  frightened 
to  death,  got  behind  a  door  and  asked  Sothern,  as  the 
host,  to  be  allowed  to  go  home.  When  I  met  Miss 
Neilson   she   and   Lee   had   drifted   completely   apart. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      53 

Admiration  was  the  breath  of  her  nostrils,  and  she  would 
flirt  for  mere  amusement.  Sometimes  this  habit  got 
her  into  difficulties.  In  St.  Louis  one  elderly  man  con- 
nected with  the  Press,  believing  himself  aggrieved,  and 
under  the  influence  of  much  alcoholic  refreshment,  made 
himself  terribly  obnoxious,  and  expressed  his  intention 
of  shooting  quite  a  number  of  people,  including  Miss 
Neilson  and  himself,  until  the  police  were  consulted  and 
he  was  temporarily  taken  care  of. 


VII 

Our  tour  was  under  the  management  of  Max  Strakosch, 

the  operatic  entrepreneur.     We  travelled  with  a  business 

manager   only,   playing   with   stock   companies   in  the 

various  cities.     And  what  admirable  companies  many 

of  them  were  !     Some  of  the  best  all-round  leading  men 

I  have  ever  met !     James  O'Neil  in  Chicago,  Milnes 

Levick  in  Baltimore,  Natt  Lingham  in  Louisville,  W.  E. 

Sheridan    in   Philadelphia,    among    others.     A   curious 

incident  occurred  in  Baltimore.     The  play  was  As  You 

Like  It.     Milnes  Levick  played  Jaques,  and  had  spoken 

the  Seven  Ages  speech  very  finely,  gaining  tremendous 

applause  at  the  end.     Miss  Neilson  (as  far  as  I  know 

without  intent)  said,  "  Go  on,  go  on,"  and  the  scene  was 

taken  up  before  the  applause  died  down.     The  audience 

got  annoyed  and  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  being  treated 

scurvily,  and  kept  up  the  applause  in  a  manner  which 

stopped  the  play.     Miss  Neilson  ordered  the  curtain  to 

be  rung  down,  and  then  the  storm  burst  out.     It  became 

a  battle  royal  between  her  and  the  audience,  who  simply 

declined  to  listen  to  a  word  until  Mr.  Levick  had  repeated 

the   speech.     A   silly   scene,   which   might   have   been 

avoided,  but  became  an  absolute  deadlock,  out  of  which 

there  was  only  one  way.     The  audience  was  master  of 

the  situation. 

64 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      55 

I  remember  that  during  our  tour  we  met  one  very 
fine  comedian  and  character  actor,  Mr.  Ben  de  Bar, 
manager  of  the  Grand  Opera  House,  St.  Louis.  A  tall 
man,  of  large  proportions,  with  a  full  face,  out  of  which 
he  had  the  power  of  taking  every  possible  expression. 
His  performance  of  Dogberry  was  admirable.  When  he 
opened  his  first  scene  with  the  line  :  "  Are  you  good  men 
and  true?  "  and  also  later  in  the  line  :  "  Is  our  whole 
dissembly  appeared?  "  his  face  expressed  nothing  more 
than  a  blank  wall.  His  Touchstone,  too,  was  excellent. 
I  heard,  at  the  time,  that  his  Falstaff  was  also  very  fine, 
but  I  did  not  see  it. 

During  the  tour.  Miss  Neilson  fell  ill  in  New  Orleans, 
and  had  to  forego  her  engagement  there,  and  we  came 
through  to  New  York  for  a  fortnight's  rest.  This  gave 
me  the  opportunity  of  being  present  at  the  first  per- 
formance of  Boucicault's  play,  The  Shaughraun,  which 
was  a  great  delight.  Its  triumph  was  complete,  and 
the  cast  (amongst  whom  were  many  friends)  was  one  of 
the  best  that  I  ever  saw.  I  also  saw  during  that  rest 
George  Rignold  in  Calvert's  production  of  Henry  V.  at 
Booth's  theatre.  This  was  another  notable  performance, 
which  went  over  all  the  world,  and  made  Rignold  a 
deservedly  rich  man.  He  finally  settled  in  Australia 
(with  occasional  visits  to  England),  where  he  died,  much 
respected  and  beloved,  only  last  year. 

Another  fine  actor  I  saw  at  this  time  was  Mr.  E.  L. 
Davenport,  father  of  Miss  Fanny  Davenport,  and  hus- 
band of  the  English  actress,  Miss  Fanny  Vining,  a  beauti- 
ful actor  of  great  power  and  versatility.  I  have  often 
heard  Americans  express  the  opinion  that  Davenport 


56      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

was  about  the  best  all  round  actor  they  had  ever  pro- 
duced, and  I  should  be  prepared  to  accept  the  statement. 
He  more  nearly  resembled  my  ideal,  Samuel  Phelps  (of 
whom  much  more  hereafter),  than  any  one  I  have  seen 
before  or  since.  His  Shylock,  Sir  Giles  Overreach, 
William  {Black-Eyed  Susan),  among  other  parts,  were 
great  performances. 

Our  first  visit  to  Philadelphia  was  to  Mrs.  John  Drew's 
theatre,  the  Arch  Street,  and  there  the  popular  John 
Drew  played  with  us,  and  his  sister  Georgie — afterwards 
Mrs.  Barrymore — made  her  first  appearance  on  the 
stage  as  Hero  {Much  Ado  About  Nothing).  Thus  both 
Barrymore  and  his  wife  made  their  first  appearance  with 
me.  She  became  a  capital  actress,  and  was  a  humorist 
of  the  first  water. 

Our  return  visit  to  Philadelphia  was  to  the  Walnut 
Street  Theatre,  and  there,  during  our  stay,  we  produced 
for  the  first  time  on  the  American  continent,  as  far  as 
we  could  ascertain.  Measure  for  Measure.  It  was  an 
unqualified  success.  Miss  Neilson  gave  an  admirable 
performance  of  Isabella,  and  looked  a  goddess  in  the 
nun's  costume,  the  veil  proving  most  becoming  to  her 
cast  of  features.  W.  E.  Sheridan  was  excellent  as  the 
Duke  Vincentio,  as  also  were  Charles  Walcot  and  his 
wife  (English  players),  as  Angelo  and  Mariana.  Lindsay 
Harris  was  a  capital  Lucio,  and  I  think  I  scored  as 
Claudio. 

The  Walnut  Street  Theatre  was  owned  by  John  S. 
Clarke,  well  known  in  England  as  in  America.  He  was 
brother-in-law  of  Edwin  Booth,  who  was  playing  an 
engagement  in  Baltimore  (near  by)  at  the  time,  and  who 


.T.    H.     BARNES    AS    CLAUUIO 

("Measure  for  Measure") 


[To  face  page  56 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      57 

closed  his  theatre  at  his  own  expense,  and  came  over  to 
Philadelphia  to  be  present  at  our  first  performance. 
Neilson  included  the  part  of  Isabella  in  her  repertory 
from  then  until  the  time  of  her  death.  Her  trump  card 
was,  of  course,  Juliet,  and,  eminently  successful  as  the 
season  was,  it  would  have  been  more  so  if  she  would 
have  consented  to  play  that  part  more  often,  or  even 
every  night.  At  a  matinee  in  St.  Louis,  when  Romeo  and 
Juliet  was  the  programme,  one  of  the  newspapers,  as 
a  matter  of  curiosity,  undertook  to  count  the  number 
of  females  present — 2,760  passed  the  doors,  not  counting 
males.  This  was  easily  a  record  up  to  that  time. 
Amongst  the  audience  were  many  ladies'  schools.  And 
yet,  in  my  personal  judgment,  it  was  not  her  best  per- 
formance. Her  Juliet  seemed  to  me  just  to  lack  some- 
thing of  the  quality  that  one  wanted  to  find  in  the  scion 
of  a  noble  house.  It  conveyed  more  the  notion  of  a 
beautiful  young  woman  of  another  class.  I  used  to  think 
that  if  we  could  have  had  a  Juliet  of  Neilson 's  force  and 
Mrs.  Scott  Siddons's  breeding,  the  ideal  of  the  author 
would  have  been  just  about  realised.  Each  of  them 
lacked  what  the  other  had. 

No  !  Miss  Neilson's  very  finest  efforts  were  in  parts 
and  scenes  of  strongly  theatrical  power,  written  for 
theatrical  effect.  Her  Pauline  in  The  Lady  of  Lyons 
was  admirable,  and  as  Julia,  in  The  Hunchback,  her 
"  Do  it  !  nor  leave  the  act  to  me  !  "  was  really  very  fine 
indeed. 

This  engagement  was  for  me  a  very  arduous  one,  as, 
in  addition  to  playing  a  long  leading  part  every  evening 
and  at  least  one  matinee  a  week,  I  had  to  conduct  a 


58   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

rehearsal  nearly  every  morning  (Miss  Neilson  rarely 
attended  these  rehearsals),  and  over  and  above  all  this 
there  was  the  ever-present  danger  of  her  differences  with 
the  local  managers,  which  had  to  be  bridged  over — not 
always  so  easy  !  The  work  did  not  bother  me.  I 
thrived  on  work  in  those  days,  and  by  the  exercise  of  a 
good  deal  of  diplomacy  I  somehow  managed  to  keep  on 
pleasant,  friendly  terms  with  my  star,  whilst  doing  my 
very  best  to  serve  the  manager  who  paid  my  salary, 
and  I  always  got  on  well  with  the  various  theatre 
managers  and  their  several  companies.  Alas  !  it  fell  out 
that  our  very  last  week  brought  about  a  marked  change 
in  this  condition  of  affairs.  The  tour  ended  at  Toronto 
(a  return  visit).  It  so  happened  that  I  had  done  a  good 
deal  of  rowing  in  England  in  the  previous  three  years 
and  had  been,  thereby,  brought  in  contact  with  many 
foremost  amateur  athletes.  Some  of  these  had  migrated 
to  Canada  and  settled  in  Toronto.  They  rallied  round 
me,  as  only  Englishmen  in  the  Colonies  know  how  to. 
Amongst  my  greatest  friends  was  a  very  clever  man, 
T.  C.  Patteson,  who  had  founded  and  was  then  editor 
of  the  Toroyito  Mail.  He  vied  with  many  others  in  their 
efforts  to  give  me  a  good  time.  It  fell  out  that  in  our 
last  week  Miss  Neilson  announced  a  farewell  benefit, 
which  really  had  no  business  significance,  but  was  an 
opportunity  for  arousing  a  demonstration  of  enthusiasm. 
My  friends  seized  on  the  idea  (against  which  I  protested 
with  all  the  emphasis  at  my  command)  that  I  ought  to 
have  a  benefit,  too.  Miss  Neilson  was  consulted,  with- 
out my  knowledge,  and  she  in  turn  was  supposed  to  have 
taken  the  opinion  of  Strakosch  (our  manager)  by  tele- 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   59 

gram.  It  was  decided  that  it  was  not  permissible — at 
which  I  was  not  a  bit  surprised — but  the  ball  having 
been  started  it  gained  in  size  and  velocity,  and  our  last 
night,  March  24,  1875,  when  we  played  The  Lady  of 
Lyons,  was  quite  a  scene  of  strong  partisanship.  Ap- 
plause came  equally  for  both  of  us  in  our  efforts.  It  was 
really  very  embarrassing  for  me,  and  I  could  have  well 
wished  to  have  been  "  saved  from  my  friends."  But 
there  was  no  help  for  it  !  I  endeavoured  to  explain  to 
Miss  Neilson,  but  she  was  furious  and  I  don't  think  she 
ever  had  a  more  dramatic  moment  than  when  she  said 
at  the  end — with  her  fine  eyes  flashing  volumes  of 
indignation — "  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again  as  long  as 
I  live."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  only  did  once  more. 
Coming  out  of  a  London  theatre  two  or  three  years  after, 
we  met  face  to  face,  when  she  perfunctorily  passed  the 
usual  pleasantries,  and  I  never  saw  her  again.  I  was 
greatly  grieved  and  shocked  to  hear  of  her  tragically 
sudden  death  in  Paris  in  1880.  She  had  always  suffered 
from  dyspepsia,  and  had  rather  ignored  it  by  often  sitting 
up  late  and  eating  heavy  suppers.  In  Paris,  on  a  very 
hot  day,  it  was  said  she  drank  two  large  glasses  of  milk 
and  soda  in  quick  succession,  which  stopped  the  heart's 
action  and  she  died  practically  before  aid  could  be 
summoned.  She  lies  in  Brompton  Cemetery,  where  a 
beautiful  stone  marks  her  last  home  which,  after  the 
usual  inscription,  bears  the  word  of  so  much  moment  in 
the  actor's  life  :  "  Resting." 

So  ended  one  of  the  most  meteoric  careers  in  all  the 
romance  of  the  English  stage.  At  first  blush  it  would 
appear  a  sad  thing  !     But  was  it  ?     She  had  tasted  the 


60      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

sweets  of  almost  unprecedented  honours.  She  passed 
in  the  fullness  of  her  womanhood  and  at  the  zenith  of  her 
fame,  and  also  when  some  very  distinct  annoyances  were 
looming  in  the  future  for  her.  All  her  fine  points  and 
all  her  faults  lie  there  with  her,  and  the  world,  when  it 
recalls  her  at  all,  remembers  only  her  greatness  and  her 
goodness,  and  happily  forgets  all  else  !  By  her  will  Miss 
Neilson  left  one  thousand  pounds  to  Clement  Scott  and 
Joseph  Knight ;  one  thousand  pounds  to  Mr.  Edward 
Compton  (still  with  us),  her  last  leading  m^an,  and  the 
balance  of  her  fortune  went  to  an  old  and  dear  friend. 
Admiral  Carr  Glyn,  who  endowed  with  it  a  fund  for 
certain  needy  actors. 

The  manageress  of  the  Grand  Opera  House,  Toronto, 
was  a  Mrs.  Morrison,  who  had  been  a  Miss  Nickerson, 
daughter  of  an  old  and  respected  actor.  She  was  in 
great  favour  with  the  very  popular  Governor-General 
of  that  day.  Lord  Dufferin.  She  was  a  most  admirable 
business  woman  as  well  as  a  very  capable  actress  and  a 
kind,  considerate  friend  to  many  people,  including 
myself.  She  persuaded  me  that  I  had  created  sufficient 
interest  in  Toronto  to  warrant  my  trying  two  weeks 
"  starring  "  there  on  my  own  account  in  modern  plays. 
This  I  did,  playing  The  Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man, 
Old  Soldiers,  Partners  for  Life,  etc.,  with  a  pleasant 
result  both  artistically  and  financially.  After  this  I  was 
engaged,  at  Boucicault's  suggestion,  to  play  Captain 
Molyneux  in  the  first  Canadian  production  of  his  play 
The  Shaughraun.  This  was  the  part  created  in  New 
York  by  Harry  Montague.  The  play  made  a  huge 
success  in  Toronto,  and  then  I  was  still  further  retained 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      61 

to  play  the  lead  with  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Rousby,  an 
English  star  visiting  America  that  year.  She  was  indeed 
a  lovely  woman,  but  alas  !  this  was  another  case  of  a 
frightfully  ill-assorted  marriage,  and  one  of  the  worst  ! 
She  had  married,  years  before,  quite  a  good  actor  in 
England,  Wybert  Rousby.  Where  the  fault  lay  was  a 
matter  of  opinion  amongst  those  who  professed  to  know. 
Perhaps  there  were  faults  on  both  sides,  but  certain  it 
was  they  were  completely  and  irrevocably  estranged.  I 
managed  to  get  on  very  well  with  her  (sometimes  difficult) 
and  she  drew  quite  a  good  week's  receipts  in  Toronto. 
At  that  time,  as  they  do  to-day,  they  liked  an  entertain- 
ment with  the  English  stamp  on  it.  I  played  with  her, 
amongst  other  things,  the  romantic  part  of  Edward 
Courtenay  in  Tom  Taylor's  'Twixt  Axe  and  Crown,  of 
which  she  was  the  original  of  her  part  in  London,  and  I 
think  one  of  the  biggest  and  most  prolonged  roars  of 
applause  I  ever  heard  in  a  playhouse  was  when  I  finished 
a  passionate  heroic  speech  with  the  line,  "  For  England  ! 
England's  Queen  !  and  England's  Law  !  "  R  really 
seemed  as  if  they  would  never  stop  applauding. 

After  Mrs.  Rousby 's  engagement  closed  I  had  a  week's 
tour  of  some  smaller  Canadian  towns,  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Morrison,  and  then  spent  a  few  days  in  Toronto 
saying  "  good-bye  "  to  a  lot  of  as  good  friends  as  a  man 
could  ever  expect  to  make  away  from  home.  I  had 
many  a  lump  in  my  throat  as  one  and  all  wished  me 
"  God-speed  !  "  On  the  last  Sunday  night  J.  L.  Toole  and 
I  walked  and  talked  of  old  friends  on  the  shore  of  Lake 
Ontario,  and  I  bore  all  kinds  of  messages  to  his  friends  in 
England  in  anticipation  of  his  return.     He  had  been  on 


62   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

his  first  and  only  tour  in  America  that  same  year,  and 
we  had  met  at  odd  times  in  Philadelphia,  Cincinnati, 
St.  Louis  and  Toronto. 

One  of  the  prominent  members  of  Mrs.  Morrison's 
company  in  Toronto  was  a  splendid  old  English  actor, 
Mr.  C.  W.  Couldock,  who,  years  afterwards,  created  the 
leading  part  in  Hazel  Kirke,  a  play  which  ran  at  the 
Madison  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  for  years  "  off  the 
reel."  Apropos  of  this  play,  the  late  Henry  Pettitt 
always  insisted  that  it  was  taken  from  his  English 
melodrama,  The  Green  Lanes  of  England,  and  certainly 
the  similarity  was  so  extraordinary  that  if  he  was  not 
justified  in  his  contention  the  long  arm  of  coincidence 
was  quite  unusually  en  evidence. 

Passing  through  New  York  I  saw  a  very  fine  per- 
formance of  The  Two  Orphans  at  the  Union  Square 
Theatre  there,  under  the  management  of  A.  M.  Palmer. 
I  had  seen  the  play  in  Paris  and  London  previously,  but 
the  New  York  performance  was  by  far  the  best.  It  was 
a  strong  cast — Charles  Thorne,  McKee  Rankin,  Stuart 
Robson,  F.  F.  MacKay,  James  Stoddart,  Fanny  Morant, 
Ida  Vernon,  Kate  Claxton,  Kitty  Blanchard,  etc. 
McKee  Rankin  was  especially  fine  as  Jacques. 

I  sailed  home  by  the  s.s.  Britannic  (Capt.  Thompson) 
on  May  29,  1875,  and  reached  London  on  June  8.  I  saw 
my  first  iceberg  on  the  way,  and  many  of  them.  One  of 
the  letters  I  bore  home  from  J.  L.  Toole  was  to  a  member 
of  the  club  called  "  The  Knights  of  the  Round  Table," 
held  at  Simpson's,  in  the  Strand.  The  result  of  this 
introduction  was  that  I  was  elected  a  member  of  that 
club,  and  remained  so  for  many  years.     It  was  not  very 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE      63 

much  of  a  club,  but  rather  a  coterie  of  jolly  old  friends 
who  had  the  run  of  Simpson's  fine  English  food  and  Simp- 
son's fine  cooking  in  a  good,  large,  private  room.  Many 
actors  and  managers  belonged  to  it,  amongst  them 
Henry  Irving,  David  James,  Thomas  Thorne,  John 
Hollingshead  and  others.  We  had  the  largest  round 
table  in  the  world  made  from  a  single  piece  of  wood.  It 
was  in  the  great  Exhibition  of  1851 — a  solid  piece  of 
mahogany  at  which  some  sixteen  members  could  sit  and 
dine  with  ease.  Here  some  kind  genial  old  friends 
used  to  meet  most  days,  and  on  Saturdays  a  goodly 
number  would  amuse  one  another  with  impromptu 
concerts,  etc.,  and  many  happy  times  were  spent.  The 
president  of  the  club  in  my  day  was  John  Christopher 
Pawle,  a  London  solicitor  (father  of  Mr.  Lennox  Pawle, 
the  present-day  actor),  but  the  moving  spirit  was  that 
kindly,  good-natured  Englishman,  E.  W.  Cathie,  manag- 
ing director  and  practical  proprietor  of  Simpson's.  A 
better  fellow  never  lived,  and  when  I  say  he  reminded 
me  greatly  of  my  own  good  father,  to  whom  I  have 
alluded  in  my  opening  chapter,  it  may  be  gathered  how 
strong  was  my  affection  for  him  and  with  what  sadness 
I  received  the  news  of  his  sudden  death  when  I  was  on 
one  of  my  tours  in  America  some  years  after.  I  believe 
the  club  and  the  round  table  are  still  at  Simpson's,  but 
I  have  not  seen  either  for  some  years.  Here  David 
James  gave  his  dinner  to  celebrate  the  1,000th  night  of 
the  run  of  Byron's  Our  Boys,  and  one  of  the  old  members, 
George  Ledger,  brother  of  the  founder  of  the  Era  and 
uncle  of  the  late  proprietor  of  that  paper,  used  to  show 
with  great  pride  the  voucher  for  the  seat  he  occupied 


64      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

at  Edmund  Kean's  last  appearance  in  London.  What 
a  wonder  Edmund  Kean  must  have  been  !  George 
Ledger  said  to  me  once  :  "  It  is  true,  my  boy,  that  he 
was  only  five  feet  six  and  a-half  inches  in  height,  but, 
by  Heaven,  I  have  seen  him  when  he  seemed  ten  feet 
high  !  " 


VIII 

The  autumn  of  1875  found  me  at  the  Royal,  Man- 
chester, under  special  circumstances.  A  powerful  and 
wealthy  syndicate  had  been  formed  to  take  over  the 
theatre  from  the  estate  of  the  previous  manager  (John 
Knowles)  and  run  it  on  first-class  lines.  There  was  any 
amount  of  capital  at  the  back  of  the  scheme,  and  their 
ambition  aimed  as  high  as  to  form  a  company  such  as 
could  go  to  London,  even,  as  the  Manchester  Theatre 
Royal  Company.  Manchester  has  always  been  a  fertile 
ground  for  local  theatrical  enterprise  (witness  the 
success,  in  recent  years,  of  the  management  of  that 
astute  and  clever  lady  Miss  Horniman).  The  proprietors 
in  1875  were  unfortunate  in  their  choice  of  a  manager. 
Mr.  William  Sidney  was  a  man  of  great  experience,  but 
principally  gained  in  smaller  towns  such  as  Norwich,  etc., 
and  he  seemed  quite  incapable  of  "  reaching  out  "  as 
the  syndicate  would  have  liked.  His  successor,  Alfred 
Thompson,  was  extravagant  enough  for  anything,  but 
his  talent  lay  chiefly  in  the  production  of  pantomime  and 
extravaganza,  and  his  purely  dramatic  capability  was 
not  what  was  required  in  the  instance  mentioned ;  so  by 
degrees  the  gentlemen  interested,  finding  their  hopes 
unrealised,  got  tired  of  their  enterprise,  and  the  theatre 
drifted  back  to  the  ordinary  level  of  provincial  houses. 
It  was  a  great  pity  and  a  great  chance  missed. 

We  opened  on  September  4,  1875,  with  a  great  flourish 
F  65 


66      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

of  trumpets.  Everything  was  new  and  bright  and  well 
done.  The  opening  play  was  As  You  Like  It,  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kendal  as  Rosalind  and  Orlando.  I  played 
Jaques.  During  their  visit  the  Kendals  produced 
several  of  the  plays  in  their  repertory,  and  we  did  very 
good  business  indeed.  I  wonder  if  Mr.  Kendal  remembers 
how  near  he  was  to  death  during  our  early  rehearsals  ? 
A  counterweight  of  the  drop-curtain  became  detached 
from  its  rope,  which  was  new,  and  fell,  just  touching  his 
arm,  crashing  right  through  two  floors  !  After  the 
Kendals,  we  produced  with  our  own  specially  selected 
company  Tom  Taylor's  fine  play  Lady  Clancarty,  and  in 
this  I  was  very  fortunate  in  getting  on  good  terms  with 
my  public  and  greatly  pleasing  my  proprietors.  Our 
company  was  quite  a  strong  one,  and  included  as  good 
an  all-round  leading  lady  as  I  have  ever  seen — a  much 
better  actress  than  one-half  the  so-called  stars — Miss 
Louise  Willes.  Unfortunately,  she  was  not  beautiful, 
but  such  was  her  marked  intellectuality  that  I  have 
seen  her  look  very  positively  bewitching  when  her  brain 
shone  through  her  work.  She  was  an  artist  to  her 
finger-tips.  Nothing  came  amiss  to  her.  She  played 
Lady  Clancarty  beautifully.  She  was  a  splendid  Lady 
Teazle,  and  her  Lady  Macbeth  and  Ophelia,  etc.,  were 
worthy  of  all  praise.  I  am  sorry  to  remember  she  died 
"  unwept,  unhonour'd,  and  unsung,"  without  her  great 
merits  having  been  fully  recognised.  She  had  been  in 
poor  health  for  some  time  previously. 

After  Lady  Clancarty,  which  did  fine  business,  we  had 
a  fortnight's  visit  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bandmann  !  Only 
moderately  successful.  Bandmann  was  a  tragedian  who 
hailed  from  Germany.     He  was  certainly  not  of  the  first 


^AMIEL    l'Hi;i.l' 


I  To  face  page  67 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      67 

water,  but  an  adept  in  the  gentle  art  of  making  himself 
disliked  by  his  fellow-artists  through  a  painfully  over- 
bearing manner. 

And  then  came  the  event  which  was  to  mark  an  epoch 
in  my  career  and  a  red-letter  time  in  my  life,  which  I 
have  never  failed  to  look  back  on  with  feelings  of  the 
greatest  interest  and  pride.     Samuel   Phelps  came  to 
us  as  a  star  to  play  several  of  his  great  parts,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  met  the  man  who  was  to  have  an  influence 
on  all  my  future  life,  and  not  only  compel  my  positive 
worship  of  himself,  but  strengthen  in  a  marked  degree 
my  respect  for  the  art  to  which  he  and  I  had  the  honour 
to  belong,  in  showing  me  its  nobler  side  and  its  far- 
reaching  influence  for  good  and  evil  when  employed  in 
truthfully    "  holding   the   mirror   up   to   nature."     By 
many  actors  of  the  modern  school,  whose  reverence  is 
not  their  strongest  point,  I  have  been  thought  quite  mad 
in  my  worship  of  Samuel  Phelps.     Well,  I  plead  guilty, 
as  they  understand  that  worship.     I  have  never  seen 
such  an  actor  !     I  am  also  more  than  ordinarily  familiar 
with  stage  history,  and  I  can  find  no  record  of  such 
an  actor!     Let  me  hasten  to  explain  this  last  state- 
ment.    He  played  more  parts  and  a  wider   range  of 
parts — well,  than  any  actor  who  ever  spoke  the  English 
language.     I  should  not  claim  for  Phelps  that  he  could 
play  Othello  or  Richard  III.,  or  even  Shylock,  as  well 
as  Edmund  Kean,  or  Lear  as  well  as  Forrest,  or  Abel 
Drugger  as  well  as  Garrick,  or  Coriolanus  as  well  as 
John    Philip    Kemble.     All    these    and    many    others 
unnamed  have  left  reputations  in  one,  two,  three,  or 
even  six  parts,  but  Phelps's  reputation  rests  on  sixty — 
and  more.     For  eighteen  years — from  1844  to  1862 — he 


68   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

conducted  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre.  He  produced  there 
thirty-four  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  and  his  list  of  other 
productions  and  parts  played  is  practically  a  list  of 
every  great  play  in  the  language.  He  changed  his 
programme  every  week,  fortnight,  or  month,  as  required, 
and  drew  all  London  to  what  was  an  outlying  theatre 
to  see  his  work.  All  this  time  Charles  Kean,  under  the 
direct  patronage  of  the  Queen  and  Royal  Family,  was 
doing  fine  work  at  the  Princess's,  but  the  great  heart  of 
the  public  was  with  Phelps  at  Sadler's  Wells.  If  this  is 
questioned,  speak  to  any  white-haired  playgoer  about 
any  one  of  the  great  classic  plays  and  you  will  be  met 
by  some  such  remark  as  this  :  "  Ah,  I  have  not  seen  that 
play  since  Sam  Phelps  produced  it  at  Sadler's  Wells, 
and  I  don't  want  to  see  any  one  else  in  it."  This  sort 
of  statement  is  his  monument,  and,  to  the  disgrace  of 
London  be  it  said,  his  only  one.  Apart  from  his  own 
individual  acting  his  ideas  of  our  art  were  all  broad  and 
grand.  Nothing  little  or  narrow-minded  found  a  place 
in  his  nature.  To  paraphrase  what  Disraeli  said  of  his 
wife  :  "  To  know  him  was  a  liberal  education,"  and  to 
talk  with  him  on  any  play  or  theatrical  subject  was  an 
intellectual  treat.  On  the  stage  he  was  fairness  itself, 
and  he  would  (and  did,  constantly)  show  any  one  who  was 
in  earnest  how  to  make  the  most  of  his  part,  even  when 
it  would  seem  to  score  against  himself.  From  the  first 
hour  of  my  acquaintance  with  him  I  was  fortunate  in 
apparently  winning  his  esteem  and  regard.  He  seemed 
never  tired  of  showing  me  how  I  could  improve  my 
performances,  and  we  became  great  friends,  and  when, 
alas  !  I  followed  him  to  his  last  resting-place  on  that  dull 
November   day   in    1878,    and    saw    London    standing 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      69 

respectfully  bareheaded  for  miles  as  we  passed,  I  knew 
that  many  thousands  of  people  (including  myself)  had 
lost  a  friend  whose  artistic  endeavours  had  amounted  to 
genuine  benefactions,  and  whose  particular  niche  in 
their  regard  could  not,  and  has  not  since,  been  quite 
filled.  In  private  life  he  was  a  devoted  father,  who 
lived  for  his  home  and  the  love  of  his  children  (he  had 
been  a  widower  for  years)  and  his  art.  In  the  course 
of  my  life  I  have  never  met  an  artist  in  any  profession 
whose  ideals  were  higher  and  whose  sympathies  were 
broader.  He  was  in  no  sense  a  society  man.  He  had 
not  the  time.  His  one  holiday  was  usually  spent  in 
fishing  in  the  shires,  and  an  amusing  story  is  told  of  a 
country  farmer  and  his  wife  seated  in  the  pit  at  Sadler's 
Wells,  and  when  Phelps  came  on  the  stage  the  farmer 

turned  to  his  wife  and  said,  "  Betsy,  I'm  d d  if  it 

ain't  the  old  fisherman."  One  of  the  few  of  the  public 
who  had  ever  seen  him  in  private  ! 

In  Manchester  I  played  with  him  in  John  Bull, 
Richelieu,  The  Man  of  the  World — in  which  he  was 
magnificent  as  Sir  Pertinax  MacSycophant — and  finally 
we  produced  on  a  scale  of  much  magnificence  The  School 
for  Scandal.  It  is  possible  that  this  was  the  most 
elaborate  and  costly  production  of  this  play  ever  seen. 
We  used  the  same  models  as  had  been  employed  at  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  under  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft's  manage- 
ment, but,  of  course,  in  the  splendid  area  of  the  Royal, 
Manchester,  the  effect  was  bigger  and  finer.  All  the 
costumes  were  new  and  handsome.  I  should  be  afraid 
to  say  what  was  the  worth  of  the  genuine  Queen  Anne 
silver  (lent  by  Mr.  Agnew,  one  of  the  directors),  which  1 
had  in  my  supper  scene  as  Charles  Surface,  but  it  was 


70      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

very  valuable  indeed.  Phelps  played  Sir  Peter  Teazle, 
Miss  Willes  Lady  Teazle,  Miss  Margaret  Cooper  Lady 
Sneerwell,  John  Wainwright  Joseph  Surface,  and  the 
wTiter  Charles  Surface.  All  the  other  parts  had  good 
exponents.  The  whole  thing  was  a  very  big  success 
indeed — individually  and  collectively — and  drew  splendid 
houses.  I  was  very  fortunate  in  consolidating  my 
position  in  the  town  and  theatre.  The  public  and  my 
managers  made  a  great  fuss  of  me,  and,  what  was  most 
gratifying  of  all  to  me,  dear  old  Mr.  Phelps  went  out  of 
his  way  to  be  particularly  complimentary.  Altogether 
it  was  one  of  my  happiest  experiences. 

Mr.  Phelps  had  a  fund  of  humour,  and  used  to  tell 
some  stories  inimitably.  One  good  one  was  of  his 
coming  out  of  Sadler's  Wells  one  night  with  a  large 
bandana  silk  handkerchief  (as  used  in  those  days) 
hanging  far  out  of  his  pocket.  Two  little  pickpockets 
were  following  him  to  steal  it,  when,  just  as  one  of  them 
was  about  to  grab  it,  the  other  said,  "  'Ere,  Bill,  don't 
operate  on  'im;  'e's  a  brother  pro."  Another  story  he 
delighted  in  was  of  a  performance  of  Bulwer  Lytton's 
Money  in  Sheffield.  In  the  Club  scene,  where  the  Old 
Member  says  nothing  but  "  Waiter  !  snuffbox  !  "  at 
frequent  intervals,  it  so  got  on  the  nerves  of  a  man  in 
the  gallery  that,  after  three  or  four  repetitions,  he  called 
out  in  broad  Yorkshire  dialect,  "  Hey  !  give  t'oud  fool 
snuff-box,  and  let  him  put  it  in  t'is  pocket  and  let 
t'  play  go  on." 

In  1876  Alderman  Cotton  was  elected  Lord  Mayor 
of  London,  and  during  his  year  of  office  a  luncheon  was 
given  at  the  Mansion  House  to  the  dramatic  profession. 
I  believe  it  was  the  first  public  recognition  of  our  calling 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   71 

within  the  city  proper.  There  were  only  two  toasts — 
"  The  Queen  "  and  "  The  Drama,"  coupled  with  the 
name  of  Samuel  Phelps.  He  rose  to  respond,  and  his 
opening  words  were  these  : — "  My  Lord  Mayor,  ladies 
and  gentlemen, — I  am  sixty-three  years  of  age — forty- 
three  years  of  which  have  been  spent  in  the  service  of 
the  public  as  an  actor,  and  it  may  interest  you  to  know 
that  this  is  practically  the  first  time  I  have  ever  addressed 
a  word  to  an  audience  which  has  not  been  set  down  for 
me  by  the  author."  And  so  it  was  !  No  speeches,  no 
paragraphs,  no  interviews,  no  photographs,  no  bunkum 
of  any  sort  !  Just  honest,  straightforward  work  for  the 
public  when  the  curtain  was  up.  I  don't  think  any  words 
ever  affected  me  so  strongly.  Here,  good  reader,  was 
my  text  and  my  sermon  in  one  !  This  very  speech 
caused  the  resolve  on  my  own  part  that  I  would  try 
to  follow  in  his  footsteps  in  these  particulars  (to  which 
I  alluded  in  my  opening  chapter),  and  when  the  time 
comes  for  those  left  behind  to  speak  of  me  I  ask  no  better 
eulogy  than  the  words,  "  according  to  his  lights,  he 
faithfully  followed  the  teaching  of  his  great  and  chosen 
master." 

After  the  Phelps  engagement  at  Manchester  (the 
season  was  nearly  over)  the  Grand  Opera  Company  came 
to  the  theatre  and  the  dramatic  company  moved  to  the 
Amphitheatre,  Liverpool,  and  the  Royal,  Sheffield. 
For  these  two  dates  we  were  strengthened  by  the  addition 
of  Mr.  T.  C.  King,  a  well-known  and  well-liked  provincial 
"  star,"  whom  I  had  met  the  previous  year  in  America, 
as  also  in  London,  where  he  had  made  several  pronounced 
successes,  notably  as  Quasimodo  in  Notre  Dame.  He  was 
the  possessor  of  a  magnificent  voice — deep,  full,  and 


72   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

resonant.  Indeed,  he  had  been  so  much  congratulated 
on  it  during  his  life  that  it  had  been  almost  a  disadvan- 
tage from  the  fact  that  he  had  come  to  use  only  his 
rolling,  fine  loAver  chest  notes  for  every  part  and  scene, 
sometimes  at  the  expense  of  naturalness.  In  rugged 
parts  he  was  excellent — a  splendid  Ingomar,  a  good 
Othello,  and  a  fine  William — Black-Ey'd  Susan.  The 
season  in  Manchester  ended  just  before  Christmas,  and 
I  returned  to  London. 


IX 

January,  1876,  found  me  back  on  an  old  stalking- 

ground — the  Royal,  Edinburgh,  which  had  been  burnt 

down  during  my  tour  in  America,  and  was  now  rebuilt 

and  reopened  under  the  management  of  J.  B.  Howard, 

who   had    preceded    me   as    leading    man    under   Mrs. 

Wyndham.     For  the  opening  he  had  secured  the  first 

performance,  in  the  provinces,  of  Boucicault's  immensely 

successful  play,  The  Shaughraun.     It  was  well  produced 

and  cast.     The  company  included  Mr.  and  IMrs.  Hubert 

O'Grady,  J.  D.  Beveridge,  Thomas  Nerney,  myself,  the 

beautiful  Rose  Massey,  and  a  sweetly  pretty  little  lady, 

Miss  Eveleen  Rayne  ("  Mickey  Ryan  "  she  was  called 

amongst  her  friends),  a  daughter  of  Desmond  Ryan, 

for  many  years  musical  critic  of  the  London  Standard. 

Boucicault  had  cabled  to  Chatterton  whilst  I  was  on  my 

voyage  home  from  America  to  engage  me  for  the  part 

of  Captain  Molyneux  for  the  original  production  of  the 

play  in  England  at  Drury  Lane,  but  William  Terriss 

was  on  his  staff  and  salary  list,  so  he  did  not  do  so.     It 

was  pleasant,  therefore,  that   Boucicault  engaged  me 

himself  when  the  matter  was  in  his  own  hands.     The 

play  ran  six  and  a -half  weeks  in  Edinburgh — an  almost 

unprecedented  run  in  those  days — to  enormous  houses. 

O'Grady  could  not  compare  with  Boucicault  as  Conn ; 

but,  then,  nobody  could,  and  as  the  provinces  had  not 

73 


74      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

seen  the  great  original  he  satisfied  them  very  well  in 
what  is  known  in  the  profession  as  an  "  actor-proof  " 
part.  Rose  Massey  was  splendid  as  Claire  Folliott, 
Beveridge  excellent  as  Corry  Kinchells,  Nerney  made  a 
"  hit  "  in  Shiel  Barry's  part  of  Harvey  Duff,  and  Miss 
Rayne  was  a  deliciously  piquant  and  pretty  Moya. 
This  was  a  great  achievement,  as  it  was  her  first  appear- 
ance on  the  stage,  but  she  had  been  beautifully  coached 
by  the  sweet  original  (in  London),  IVIrs.  Boucicault. 

From  Edinburgh  we  went  in  turn  to  Glasgow,  New- 
castle, Liverpool,  Manchester,  Birmingham,  and  other 
large  towns.  Everywhere  we  played  to  crowded  houses. 
I  left  the  company  in  April  to  return  to  London  under 
engagement  to  Horace  Wigan  at  the  Princess's  for  a 
play  called  Abel  Drake,  by  Tom  Taylor  and  John 
Saunders,  which  failed  hopelessly.  John  Clayton  played 
the  leading  part.  I  played  a  heavy  part,  but  the  play 
was  doomed  from  the  first  line  apparently.  As  a  stop- 
gap we  revived  The  Lady  of  Lyons  and  The  Sheep  in 
Wolfs  Clothing,  Miss  Coghlan  playing  the  leading  female 
part  with  me  in  each.  She  was  an  admirable  actress, 
with  great  glow  and  humanity  in  her  work.  As  soon 
as  it  could  be  got  ready  we  followed  this  with  a  good 
revival  of  The  Corsican  Brothers.  It  had  been  produced 
originally  in  the  same  theatre  by  Charles  Kean,  and  was 
a  very  favourite  play  there,  John  Clayton  played 
Louis  and  Fabian  de  Franchi,  and  I  played  Chateau 
Renaud.  We  were  both  good  swordsmen,  and  we 
carefully  rehearsed  a  very  interesting  duel  under  Mr. 
McTurk,  who  was  the  successor  of  "  Angelo,"  of  St. 
James's  Street,  and  it  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for 
some  of  the  officers  of  regiments  quartered  in  London 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      75 

and  others  interested  in  swordsmanship,  to  come  to  the 
Princess's  after  dining  to  see  the  fight  alone.  Let  me 
here  observe  (parenthetically)  what  a  very  useful  thing 
it  is  for  all  young  actors  to  learn  fencing  and  dancing 
if  they  have  the  energy  and  the  chance.  Apart  from 
their  absolute  use  on  necessary  occasions,  which  are  not 
as  frequent  now  as  in  the  old  days,  they  are  invaluable 
in  giving  grace  and  carriage  and  bearing  at  every  and  all 
times  on  the  stage.  We  still  retained  The  Sheep  in 
Wolfs  Clothing  in  the  bill.  Miss  Coghlan  played  Ann 
Carew  therein,  and  Miss  Caroline  Hill  played  the  leading 
part  in  The  Corsican  Brothers.  Horace  Wigan,  the 
manager,  was  a  delightful  man — well-read  and  genial, 
though  with  an  apparently  surly  exterior.  He  was  a 
brother  of  Alfred  Wigan,  who  was  a  popular  and  success- 
ful actor — the  original  John  Mildmay  {Still  Waters  Run 
Deep),  and  the  original  Chateau  Renaud  in  England. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alfred  Wigan  had  a  considerable  vogue 
as  "  stars  "  for  some  years  about  that  time.  Funny 
stories  are  told  of  her.  She  became  badly  bitten  with 
the  "  Society  craze,"  and  although  not  born  to  it,  she 
gave  herself  considerable  trouble  in  assuming  the  airs  and 
graces  of  the  heau  monde.  On  one  occasion  she  was 
congratulated  on  a  pretty  shawl  she  was  wearing,  and 
she  blandly  observed  :  "  Yes  !  There  are  only  two  like 
this  in  England  !  "  Vicky  '  has  the  one  and  I  have  the 
other  !  "  This  "  chatty  "  allusion  to  Her  Majesty 
Queen  Victoria  was  quite  a  little  gem  in  its  way.  She 
got  a  sad  "  calling  down  "  once  from  that  fine  actress, 
Mrs.  Stirling.  Mrs.  Wigan,  in  early  life,  had  been  a 
stilt-walker  in  a  circus.  None  the  worse  for  that, 
perhaps,  but  she  chose  (as  many  others  have  done)  to 


76      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

forget  and  ignore  the  past.  On  one  occasion  she  was 
rehearsing  at  the  old  Olympic,  when  she  and  Mrs. 
Stirling  came  to  loggerheads  about  the  setting  of  some 
furniture  in  a  drawing-room  scene.  After  a  somewhat 
heated  argument,  Mrs.  Wigan  (much  forgetting)  said  : 
"  My  dear  !  I  hope  you'll  allow  me  to  know  as  much  about 
drawing-room  furniture  as  you  do.  I  expect  I  have  seen 
quite  as  many  drawing-rooms  as  you  have  !  "  Mrs. 
Stirling  (much  remembering)  said  :  "  Doubtless,  love  ! 
Through  the  first-floor  window  !  " 

In  August,  1876, 1  commenced  a  short  engagement  as 
Sir  Leicester  Deadlock  in  Jo,  J.  P.  Burnett's  version  of 
Bleak  House,  in  which  his  wife,  Miss  Jennie  Lee,  made 
an  enormous  success,  and  with  which  she  went  all  over 
the  world.  I  also  created  the  leading  part  in  a  farce 
entitled  The  Way  of  the  Wind,  by  Wallis  MacKay,  the 
original  "  Captious  Critic  "  of  the  Illustrated  Sporting 
and  Dramatic  News,  when  it  started.  His  inimitable 
drawings  with  their  clever  and  delicate  sense  of  caricature 
did  much  to  establish  the  success  of  that  paper.  In 
October,  1876, 1  was  at  the  Park  Theatre,  Camden  Town, 
which  stood  in  Park  Street,  nearly  opposite  the  Britannia, 
and  has  long  since  been  pulled  down  to  make  room  for 
business  premises.  The  play  was  called  The  Ray  of 
Light,  and  was  a  version  of  the  French  UAveugle,  by 
Dennery.  A  very  fine  story  of  the  kind  in  vogue  at 
that  time.  It  was  under  the  management  of  IVIr. 
William  Creswick  (former  manager  of  the  Surrey,  in 
partnership  with  Richard  Shepherd).  A  version  of  the 
play  had  been  done  there  called  The  Humpbacked 
Doctor.  Creswick  played  the  doctor.  I  played  a  blind 
part,  and  added  a  small  mark  to  my  reputation  and  an 


FORTY   YEARS    ON   THE   STAGE      77 

addition  to  the  number  of  my  friends  among  the  pubHc. 
Creswick  was  a  dear  old  gentleman — a  brother  of  Cres- 
wick,  the  great  painter — genial  and  kindly,  but  with  one 
amiable  little  foible.  He  was  as  vain  as  a  little  child,  in 
a  cheery,  harmless  way.  Absolutely  alike  in  everything 
he  did,  he  was,  nevertheless,  quite  a  good  actor  when  his 
personality  was  fitted.  He  once  said  to  me  :  "  I  have 
often  had  a  desire  to  play  Polonius  and  The  Ghost  and 
The  Gravedigger  in  Hamlet.  I  would  have  given  such 
individuality  to  each."  Nom%  this  was  just  what  he 
could  not  do,  but  with  "  my  tongue  in  my  cheek  "  I 
replied  :  "  Well,  why  did  you  not  do  it,  sir,  when  you 
had  the  Surrey  ?  You  had  the  Shakespearean  '  ball  at 
your  feet '  there."  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he 
answered  :  "  I  should  have  done  so,  but  for  the  difficulty 
in  finding  any  one  to  play  Hamlet  !  " 

Creswick  was  the  baldest  man  I  ever  saw.  His  head 
was  like  a  misshapen  billiard  ball,  and  he  wore  the  very 
wiggiest  of  black  wigs.  When  the  Shakespeare  centenary 
was  held  at  Stratford -on -Avon  it  was  considered  neces- 
sary to  have  an  actor  present  who  was  prominently 
associated  with  Shakespearean  performances,  and  the 
choice  fell  on  Creswick  as  the  best  available  at  the  time. 
After  all  the  big  ceremonies,  extending  over  a  week,  a 
banquet  was  held  under  the  presidency  of  Mr.  Flowers, 
the  Mayor.  He  was  a  local  brewer  of  wealth,  and  had 
taken  a  foremost  part  in  the  movement  which  culminated 
in  such  gratifying  success.  Creswick  sat  on  his  right 
hand.  The  toast  of  "  The  Queen  "  was  honoured  and 
the  "  Immortal  memory  of  Shakespeare "  drunk  in 
respectful  silence.  And  the  toast  of  "  The  Chairman  " 
was  proposed  in  suitable  terms.     Mr.  Flowers  rose  to 


78      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

respond.     In  the  course  of  his  speech  he  said  :  "  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen, — You  may  well  say  my  life  is  bound  up 
with  the  town   of    Stratford -on -Avon.     I   worship   the 
memory  of  Shakespeare  and  I  love  the  town  which  gave 
him  birth.     Nearly  all  my  life  has  been  spent  here. 
When  I  first  came  to  Stratford -on -Avon  my  hair  was  as 
raven  black  as  my  old  friend  Creswick's  here  !  "   At  that 
moment  he  grabbed  Creswick's  wig,  which  came  off  in 
his  hand,  disclosing  a  very  bald  head,  to  the  discomfiture 
of  the  wearer  and  the  hilarious  mirth  of  everybody  else. 
These  were  the  days  of  the   "  Albion,"   which  was 
situated  just  opposite  Drury  Lane,  and  has  long  since 
disappeared,    where   many   actors,    authors,    managers, 
and  Press  men  could  be  seen  at  supper  almost  every 
night — Chatterton,  Webster,  Edmund  Falconer,  Byron, 
Halliday,    George   Honey,    John   Clarke,    E.    J.    Odell, 
J.  Comyns  Carr,  and  many  others — and  many  were  the 
jokes  cracked  within  its  hospitable  walls,   where  the 
supper  snacks — grilled  bones,  Welsh  rarebits,  etc.,  etc. — 
were  of  the  very  best ;  and  the  cellar,  too,  was  excellent  ! 
The  seats  were  in  boxes  like  old-fashioned  church  pews, 
nor  could  it  be  said  you  quite  had  your  own  way  there. 
The  head  waiter  (one  Pauncefort)  had  an  amusing  habit 
of  saying  :  "  What  you  want,  sir,  is  so-and-so,"  and  you 
rather  resigned  yourself  to  the  idea  that  he  knew  best — 
sometimes,  perhaps,  he  did.     Several  clubs  also  existed 
where  actors  congregated  which  have  all  passed  away. 
"  The  Temple  "  in  Norfolk  Street,  Strand ;  "  The  Unity  " 
in  Holywell  Street,  Strand — long  since  demolished  by 
the  Strand  improvements — and  especially  "  The  Junior 
Garrick  "  in  Adelphi  Terrace.     This  last  was  owned  and 
managed  by  a  Mr.  T.  Mowbray,  and  was,  for  years, 


[To  jace  page  79 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      79 

very  popular  with  the  profession.  Here  many  notable 
gatherings  took  place  from  time  to  time.  It  was  here  the 
luncheon  was  given  to  Salvini  on  his  first  visit  to  England. 
He  did  not  speak  a  word  of  English  and  used  to  travel 
round  with  an  interpreter  named  Paravacini,  who  was 
a  sort  of  international  agent.  At  the  luncheon  in 
question  Salvini's  magnificent  rolling  voice  and  his 
beautiful  Italian  diction  when  interpreted,  sentence  by 
sentence,  in  a  cracked,  squeaky  falsetto,  produced  a 
ludicrous  effect  which  may  be  imagined  better  than 
described  without  an  imitation.  The  Junior  Garrick 
was  much  affected  by  the  great  John  Oxenford,  the 
dramatic  critic  of  The  Tirries.  I  say  "  great  "  because 
Oxenford  had  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  tremendous 
intellects  I  have  ever  been  brought  in  contact  with.  He 
had  read  almost  everything,  and  it  was  said  of  him  that 
he  never  forgot  even  a  date  he  had  read.  He  knew  the 
Drama  in  nine  different  European  languages.  Some- 
thing like  a  critic,  indeed  !  and  a  worthy  successor  to 
the  great  Hazlitt,  whose  works  are  so  well  known.  A 
great  broad  mind  he  had,  and  though  a  Bohemian  almost 
to  the  extent  of  being  Rabelaisian,  he  was  a  generous, 
kindly  man,  of  fine  strong  instincts  of  friendship  and  good 
nature.  On  the  occasion  of  our  presenting  him  with  his 
portrait,  in  oils,  to  be  hung  in  the  Club,  he  was  much 
affected,  and  in  the  course  of  his  speech  of  thanks  he 
said  "  he  did  not  recall  a  time  when  he  had  written  a  line 
which  could  send  an  actor  home  to  find  his  wife  in 
tears."  This  was  nearly  true,  but  not  quite.  I  remem- 
ber two  instances  when  he  overstepped  that  line  a  little. 
Of  a  very  mediocre  actor  at  the  Hay  market  (Mr.  W.  G.), 
he  wrote  :  "  We  learn  from  a  contemporary  that  this 


80      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

gentleman  is  considered  a  very  promising  actor.  For  our 
own  part  we  don't  care  how  much  he  promises  so  long  as 
he  doesn't  perform.'"  Of  another  very  conceited  per- 
former from  the  provinces,  who  appeared  at  Drury  Lane, 
and  whose  self-sufficiency  got  on  his  nerves,  he  wrote : 
"  As  for  Mr.  L.,  who  played  the  part  of  the  hero,  he  is 
so  very  much  favoured  by  nature  that  he  scorns  to  be 
indebted  to  ar^"  The  Junior  Garrick  went  the  way 
of  most  of  the  so-called  professional  clubs.  A  non- 
professional element  got  in  and  steadily  increased  in 
numbers  till  it  gained  the  ascendancy.  Of  course,  it 
spent  more  money  than  the  actors,  and  the  proprietor 
was,  doubtless,  justified  in  recognising  on  "  which  side 
his  bread  was  buttered."  At  length  the  two  parties 
became  impossible,  and  at  a  general  meeting  in  the  later 
part  of  1876  a  vote  went  against  the  professionals,  which 
sounded  the  death  knell  of  the  institution  as  an  actors' 
club.  That  very  night,  in  David  James  and  Tom 
Thome's  dressing-room  at  the  Vaudeville,  we  resolved 
to  start  a  new  club  for  ourselves,  and  the  foundation  was 
laid,  there  and  then,  of  the  present  successful  Green  Room 
Club.  The  scheme,  once  started,  developed  rapidly. 
We  drew  up  a  set  of  rules  which  should  prevent  a  repeti- 
tion of  what  had  so  often  occurred  in  clubs  of  this  sort, 
and  which  should  leave  the  control  always  in  the  hands 
of  the  professional  members.  Every  one  took  the  matter 
up  very  enthusiastically,  and,  although  the  scrutiny  and 
qualification  for  membership  were  much  stricter  in  those 
days  than  they  are  now,  we  opened  the  club  in  premises 
in  Adelphi  Terrace,  Strand,  in  July  1877.  The  inaugural 
luncheon  took  place  at  the  Criterion  Restaurant  under 
the  chairmanship  of  the  first  president — that  grand  old 


FORTY   YEARS  ON   THE   STAGE      81 

patrician  nobleman  and  sportsman,  the  late  Duke  of 
Beaufort.  After  luncheon,  we  adjourned  to  our  own 
premises,  where  we  were  joined  by  those  two  splendid 
actors,  Samuel  Phelps  and  Ben  Webster,  as  guests,  and 
the  club  was  fairly  started  on  its  way.  I  joined  the 
committee  about  the  second  year,  and  served  on  it  and 
the  house  committee,  off  and  on,  for  many  years.  The 
club  has  had  four  homes  :  Adelphi  Terrace,  two  in  Bed- 
ford Street,  Strand,  and  its  present  handsome  premises 
in  Leicester  Square.  Of  course,  it  went  through  its 
dark  days,  when  it  seemed  certain  that  we  should 
have  to  close  up — indeed,  at  one  time  the  trustees  had 
decided  that  we  must  do  so — but  the  secretary  (George 
Derlacher)  and  some  of  the  committee  and  the  house 
committee,  which  consisted  then  of  Charles  Dickens, 
Jr.,  R.  C.  Carton,  the  successful  dramatist,  and  myself, 
asked  them  to  give  us  six  more  months  in  which  to  try 
"  to  pull  it  through,"  during  which  time  we  had  the 
gratification  of  seeing  it  weather  the  storm  and  float 
serenely  into  the  harbour  of  prosperity.  After  serving 
it  for  a  long  term  of  years,  I  began  to  find  I  was  so  much 
away  from  London  that  I  was  glad  to  resign  the  work  into 
younger  hands,  but  I  continued  a  member  down  to  two 
years  ago  (thirty-four  years  in  all),  and  it  was  a  very  great 
wrench  to  me  to  give  up  my  membership  and  separate 
myself  from  many  well-loved  friends  for  a  reason  which 
one  would  have  thought  impossible. 

Although  never  a  member  of  the  Savage  Club,  I  was 
often  a  welcomed  visitor,  and  many  of  its  members  were 
great  friends,  notably  Henry  S.  Leigh,  the  poet  and 
humorist;  Mr.  Tegetmeier,  the  naturalist,  etc.,  and 
especially  James  Albery,  the  dramatist  (from  my  first 


82      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

days  on  the  stage).  I  wonder  if  many  people  have  read 
the  brilliantly  human  epitaph  he  wrote  for  himself,  so 
painfully  descriptive — 

"  He  walked  beneath  the  moon. 
He  slept  beneath  the  sun, 
He  lived  a  life  of  '  going-to-do,' 
And  died  with  nothing  done." 


X 

Through  the  years  I  have  dealt  with  I  used  to  run 
over  to  Paris  and  study  the  French  acting  whenever  a 
favourable  opportunity  presented  itself.  I  have  seen 
Got,  Regnier,  Worms,  Febvre,  Delaunay,  Mounet-Sully, 
Coquelin,  aine  Desclec,  Croizette,  Bernhardt,  Chaumont, 
Judic,  Farqueil,  Jane  Hading,  and  many  others  in  some 
of  their  most  famous  parts.  I  saw  a  splendid  perform- 
ance of  Sardou's  great  drama.  La  Patrie,  at  the  Ambigu, 
which  so  fascinated  me  that  I  went  back  to  it  four  times 
in  one  week.  I  saw  both  Got  and  Regnier  play  La  Joie 
Fait  Peur,  and  honestly  preferred  Boucicault  in  his  own 
version  of  the  same  play,  entitled  Kerry,  or,  Night  and 
Morning  (a  beautiful  piece  of  acting).  I  saw  a  great 
performance  of  UEtrangere  with  Croizette,  Bernhardt 
(in  a  part  almost  comedy),  Coquelin,  and  Febvre  in  the 
cast.  Dejazet  I  saw  play  in  La  Petite  Marquise  in  London. 
I  shall  always  think  that  Febvre  was  one  of  the  most 
satisfying  artists  of  my  time  on  the  Parisian  stage; 
and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  Sarah  Bernhardt 
is  incomparably  the  greatest  tragedienne  and  vividly 
emotional  actress  I  have  seen  since  Ristori. 

One  notable  man  whom  I  saw  pretty  frequently  about 

this  time  was  Henry  Labouchere.     Of  course  I  met  Mrs. 

Labouchere  as  manageress  of  the  old  Queen's  and  the 

Royalty  by  turns.     Her  professional  name  was  Henri- 

83 


84      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

etta  Hodson,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  she  was  a  very 

much  better  actress  than  she  got  credit  for  being.     In 

some  parts  she  was  charming.     Her  husband  was  an 

extraordinary  man.     Beneath  a  veneer  of  cynicism  he 

carried  a  good  heart,  and  was  a  very  sincere  friend,  as 

he  could  be  a  most  implacable  enemy,  whilst  his  absolute 

delight  in   probing  and  exposing  fraud  and  humbug, 

either  public  or  individual,  amounted  to  a  positive  craze. 

At  the  time   I  speak  of  I  was  living  each  summer  at 

Teddington,   and   he   had   his   beautiful   home   on   the 

Thames  just  below,   "  Pope's  Villa  "  at  Twickenham, 

and  I  used  to  travel  to  and  from  London  with  him  very 

frequently.     The  marvellous  stories  he  would  tell  about 

himself  !     I  used  to  think  he  must  pass  a  large  portion 

of  his  time  inventing  them.     He  once  said  to  me  :   "  My 

dear  fellow,  I  have  made  it  impossible  for  any  one  to 

vilify  me.     I    have  told  such   dreadful  things  against 

myself  that  no  one  can  think  of  anything  worse."     And 

truly  some  of  his  adventures  as  he  recounted  them  were 

rather  staggering.     Many  of  them  referred  to  his  uncle, 

Lord  Taunton,  with  whom  his  relations  would  appear 

to  have  been  most  strained.     He  thoroughly  enjoyed  a 

joke  or  good  point  made  against  himself,  and  one  incident 

about  that  time  caused  him  immense  amusement.     The 

old  City  Barge  of  the  London  Corporation,  the  Maria 

Wood,  developed  a    habit  of    bringing    picnic  parties 

up   the   river   and   mooring   immediately   opposite   to 

"  Pope's  Villa  "  for  hours  in  the  afternoon,  and  with  a 

band  playing  and  dancing,  etc.,  the  proceedings  became 

what  Labouchere  thought  a  very  decided  nuisance.     He 

wrote  to  the  authorities,  and  received  a  reply  that  "  it 

would  be  better  for  him  to  keep  quiet  or  they  would 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE   85 

land  and  dance  on  his  lawn."  Perfectly  furious,  he 
then  applied  to  the  Thames  Conservancy  for  an  explana- 
tion, and  it  turned  out  that  an  old  and  long-disused  ferry 
and  right-of-way  had  once  existed  exactly  on  the  site  of 
his  garden,  and  the  English  law  of  right-of-way  is,  as  is 
well  known,  most  difficult  and  expensive  to  fight  or 
contravene.  He  positively  roared  with  laughter  when 
all  the  facts  were  known. 

Another  good  fellow  who  enjoyed  an  "  up-river  "  life 
and  spent  two  or  three  summers  at  Teddington,  was 
John  Clayton,  the  actor  before  mentioned  ("  Jack 
Clayton  "  his  friends  called  him).  What  a  good  chap 
he  was  !  And  how  hard  he  tried,  by  an  assumption  of 
blase  indifference,  to  disguise  the  fact.  He  was  a 
capital  actor.  His  Joseph  Surface  was  fine,  and  his 
realisation  of  the  hero  in  the  beautiful  version  of  A 
Tale  of  Two  Cities  (of  Dickens)  made  by  that  brilliant 
literary  dramatist,  Herman  Merivale,  and  called  All  For 
Her,  was  worthy  of  the  enthusiasm  it  evoked.  Later  in 
life,  when  his  figure  lent  itself  less  to  heroic  parts,  he 
became  a  splendid  character  actor.  His  performances 
in  some  of  Sir  Arthur  W.  Pinero's  early  and  perfect 
farces  were  singularly  effective.  One  whose  loyal 
friendships  stood  firm  in  sunshine  and  sorrow,  he  was 
very  greatly  missed  by  a  large  circle  of  friends  when  he 
was  taken  from  them,  and  they  have  seen  his  two  sons 
Dion  and  Donald  Calthrop  take  a  sure  footing  in  the 
world  of  art  and  letters  with  an  immense  amount  of 
gratification.  John's  real  name  was  J.  Alfred  Calthrop, 
and  he  was  a  brother  of  the  distinguished  painter, 
Claude  Calthrop.  One  story  of  him  has  so  passed  into 
a  proverb  that  I  fear  it  must  be  a  chestnut  to  everybody. 


86   FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

but,  in  case  it  may  meet  the  eye  of  any  one  who  has 
not  heard  it,  I  venture  to  reproduce  it  here  with  fitting 
apology.  A  budding  dramatist  (brother  of  a  very 
successful  one)  sent  him  a  play  to  read.  After  a  very 
short  time  the  author  wrote  to  know  if  it  had  been  con- 
sidered. No  reply.  Quite  soon  again  he  wrote  a  very 
curt  letter  demanding  an  answer.  Next  day  he  got  his 
MS.  back  with  the  following  note  enclosed — 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have  read  your  play.     Oh  !  my  dear  sir  ! — 

"  Yours  truly, 

"J.  C." 

In  January,  1877,  I  entered  on  an  engagement  with 
John  Hollingshead  at  the  old  Gaiety,  which  lasted  quite 
a  long  time.  The  theatre  was  owned  by  Mr.  Lionel 
Lawson,  one  of  the  family  who  made  The  Daily  Telegraph 
what  it  is  to-day,  and  uncle  of  the  present  Lord  Burnham. 
It  was  managed  entirely  by  Hollingshead,  who,  with  his 
faithful  henchman,  Arthur  Talbot  Smith,  and  his  stage 
manager,  Robert  Soutar,  carried  it  on  with  huge  spirit 
and  enterprise.  He  was  a  model  actors'  manager.  So 
long  as  the  work  was  done,  everything  moved  easily 
and  happily.  An  engagement  for  the  Gaiety  meant 
six  performances  a  week,  and  every  extra  performance 
was  paid  for  at  the  rate  of  one-sixth.  As  Hollingshead 
practically  controlled  the  later  London  appearances  of 
Charles  Mathews,  Phelps,  and  others,  and  nearly  always 
had  at  least  one  other  London  theatre  under  his  control, 
as  well  as  odd  companies  playing  in  different  places,  it 
was  essentially  a  workman's  engagement  for  which  my 


FORTY   YEARS    ON   THE   STAGE      87 

stock  company  experiences  fitted  me.  Of  course,  the 
work  was  hard,  but  I  have  received  as  many  as  thirteen 
nights'  salary  in  six  days  by  playing  every  afternoon  and 
evening,  and  at  two  different  theatres  on  the  Saturday 
night.  At  the  time  I  joined  him  he  was  running  the 
Opera  Comique  (also  demolished  by  the  Strand  im- 
provements) as  well  as  the  Gaiety.  The  usual  bill  at 
the  Gaiety  was  a  short  comedietta,  a  three-act  comedy, 
and  a  burlesque ;  and  sometimes  the  same  sort  of  enter- 
tainment was  going  on  at  the  Opera  Comique.  I  re- 
mained in  the  same  engagement  for  eighteen  months, 
with  a  short  summer  holiday.  I  played  the  leading 
juvenile  parts  in  The  Prompter's  Box,  Partners  for  Life, 
Weak  Woman,  An  Evasive  Reply,  The  Grasshopper,  Old 
Soldiers,  War  to  the  Knife,  and  played  with  Charles 
Mathews  in  The  Critic,  My  Awful  Dad,  The  Liar,  Game 
of  Speculation,  Used  Up,  and  Married  for  Money. 
These  gave  me  little  trouble,  as  I  had  played  most  of 
them  with  him  before,  but  it  was  delightful  to  meet  him 
again,  and  I  think  he  liked  it,  as  I  was  familiar  with  all 
his  business  and  saved  him  a  lot  of  trouble  and  work  at 
rehearsal. 

The  Saturday  matinees  for  many  months  were  given 
over  to  Mr.  Phelps.  With  him  I  played  in  The  Man  of 
the  World,  Richelieu,  John  Bull,  First  Part  of  Henry  IV., 
Henry  VIII.,  etc.,  also  without  much  trouble  to  me, 
and  to  his  satisfaction ;  indeed,  he  used  to  get  Holling- 
shead  to  let  me  go  with  him  for  any  engagements  he 
played  at  that  time.  The  Wednesday  matinees  con- 
sisted of  the  most  varying  programmes.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kendal  played  Black-Ey'd  Susan  and  The  Lady  of  Lyons, 
and  I  have  never  seen  such  a  Pauline  in  my  life  as  Mrs. 


88      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Kendal.  How  she  wrung  the  hearts  of  the  audience  ! 
and  what  a  bounder  she  made  me  feel  as  Beauseant 
(never  a  good  part).  J.  F.  Young,  a  member  of  the 
company,  a  dear  old  modest,  great  artist,  played  a 
matinee  of  The  Old  Corporal,  a  play  adapted  from  the 
French — a  beautiful  performance.  He  was  dumb  for 
two  acts.  I  played  the  son,  and  was  really  almost 
hysterical  at  his  magnificent  pathos.  We  revived  for 
matinees  The  Serious  Family  and  Paul  Pry.  Arthur 
Sketchley  (the  original  of  "  Mrs.  Brown  "  papers  in 
Punch)  played  Falstaff  for  a  matinee.  He  was  a  very 
good  picture  of  the  part  in  face  and  figure,  but  it  was 
only  a  mediocre  performance.  I  played  Prince  Hal, 
as  I  did  also  with  a  gentleman  named  Murray,  a  retired 
East  India  merchant  (a  relative  of  a  former  Edinburgh 
manager),  who  was  fired  with  the  same  "  vaulting 
ambition,"  but,  alas,  it  fell  heavily  on  the  stage  side  of 
the  footlights.  No  really  fat  man  can  play  Falstaff  ! 
The  physical  strain  in  sustaining  the  unction  of  voice 
and  manner  is  as  exhausting  as  the  passion  of  Othello. 
At  least,  so  said  the  very  best  Falstaff  I  ever  saw — 
Phelps,  again.  We  also  revived  Goldsmith's  Good- 
Natured  Man  for  a  matinee,  but  it  did  not  act  well. 
Mme.  Rhea,  a  continental  actress,  made  her  first  appear- 
ance in  English  under  the  tutorage  of  John  Ryder, 
playing  Beatrice  in  Much  Ado.  She  was  a  fine  woman 
and  a  capable  actress,  who  afterwards  became  a  success- 
ful star  in  the  United  States.  Selina  Dolaro,  a  sweet 
little  opera-bouffe  singer  and  actress,  decided  to  "  have 
a  shot  "  at  comedy,  and  played  Lady  Teazle  for  a 
matinee.     I  was  the  Joseph  Surface  of  a  strong  cast. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      89 

She  succeeded  fairly  well.  Poor  little  "  Dolly,"  as  she 
was  called  !  Some  years  after,  in  New  York,  I  got  a 
letter  asking  me  to  call  to  see  her,  and  I  found  her  in 
the  last  stage  of  consumption,  her  pretty  face  drawn 
and  sallow,  and  her  prettier  figure  wasted  to  a  shadow, 
but  still  the  same  "  chirpy  "  pleasant  little  body  who 
had  been  so  popular  with  every  one  in  her  healthier 
and  happier  days.  She  only  lingered  a  few  weeks  after 
I  saw  her  before  "  taking  her  last  call." 

Some  very  notable  big  benefits  took  place  about  this 
time.  John  Parry,  who  had  been  many  years  with  the 
German  Reeds,  took  his  farewell  at  the  Gaiety,  and  all 
who  could  assisted.  He  was  the  first  of  the  school  of 
piano  entertainers,  which  has  been  perpetuated  by 
Corney  Grain,  George  Grossmith,  Barclay  Gammon,  and 
others.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  could  "  make  a 
piano  do  anything  but  talk,"  and  he  was  a  fine  humorist 
to  boot.  The  great  Compton  benefit  took  place  at 
Drury  Lane  and,  with  its  supplementary  one  in  Man- 
chester, netted  an  enormous  sum  (if  my  memory  serves 
me  correctly,  between  £7,000  and  £8,000).  Mr.  Compton 
was  an  immense  and  deserved  favourite  with  both  the 
profession  and  the  public,  and  it  was  a  monster  pro- 
gramme in  which  every  one  did  anything  one  could. 
I  remember  I  "  walked  on  "  in  a  farce  with  Joseph 
Jefferson.  Creswick  had  a  good  farewell  benefit  at 
the  Gaiety  before  leaving  for  Australia,  playing 
Macbeth. 

A  complimentary  benefit  was  given  at  the  Gaiety 
to  Ada  Cavendish.  Much  Ado  was  played  with  a 
strong  cast,  including  Henry  Neville,  W.  H.  Stephens, 


90      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

G.  W.  Anson,  Ada  Cavendish,  Marion  Terry,  the 
writer,  etc. 

But  one  of  the  most  notable  of  these  entertainments 
was  got  up  by  Hollingshead  for  the  benefit  of  the  Royal 
General  Theatrical  Fund,  when  we  played  John  Bull, 
with  a  cast  including  Phelps,  Toole,  Lionel  Brough, 
Herman  Vezin,  Kendal,  myself.  Miss  Carlisle,  Mrs. 
Leigh,  Miss  West,  and,  as  an  after-piece,  Charles  Mathews 
played  his  great  farce  Cool  as  a  Cucumber.  Another 
benefit  for  the  same  good  object  which  Hollingshead 
promoted  was  a  burlesque  pantomime,  played  by  all 
the  distinguished  amateurs  of  London.  In  this,  W.  S. 
Gilbert  played  Harlequin,  and  got  through  it  very  well 
indeed,  but,  oh  !  he  looked  dreadfully  cross  and  un- 
comfortable. 

Toole  was  the  principal  comedian  at  the  Gaiety  when 
I  went  there,  but  after  the  first  season  he  started  his  own 
theatre  in  King  William  Street  (now  merged  in  the 
Charing  Cross  Hospital),  and  Edward  Terry  took  his 
place.  Toole  was  a  good  kind  fellow,  with  a  host  of 
friends — indeed,  popular  with  everybody — and  a  capital 
actor,  funny  in  comedy,  with  quite  a  power  of  domestic 
pathos,  a  screamingly  funny  farce  actor,  and  "  a  tower 
of  strength  "  with  Nelly  Farren  in  the  burlesques.  His 
Paul  Pry  was  excellent,  as  was  his  Billy  Lackaday,  and 
he  made  lots  of  money,  for  years,  with  two  comedy- 
dramas  written  specially  for  him  by  Byron,  Dearer  Than 
Life,  and  Uncle  Dick^s  Darling,  whilst  his  performances 
in  farces  such  as  The  Steeplechase  and  Ici  on  Parle 
Frangais  were  splendid.  His  Caleb  Plummer  was  good, 
but  not  comparable  with  Jefferson's.     In  private  he  was 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      91 

a  kind-hearted  man,  full  of  fun,  very  fond  of  practical 
jokes,  and  the  perpetrator  of  many  amusing  ones.  When 
he  and  Sothern  got  together  they  were  incorrigible. 
He  had  the  sympathy  of  a  wide  circle  of  friends  in  his 
hours  of  great  domestic  affliction,  when  he  lost  succes- 
sively son,  daughter,  and  wife.  After  some  years  of 
management  he  gave  up  his  theatre  for  the  reason  of 
ill -health,  and  retired  to  Brighton,  where  he  lived  in 
gradually  failing  vitality  for  many  years,  greatly  cheered 
by  the  loving  regard  of  his  old  and  loyal  friend,  Henry 
Irving,  and  always  delighted  when  any  other  of  his  pals 
were  down  there  and  would  spend  a  few  hours  with  him 
in  talking  over  old  times,  old  memories,  and  old  jokes. 
During  my  time  at  the  Gaiety,  Miss  Marie  Litton,  with 
her  husband,  Wybrow  Robertson,  started  a  series  of 
matinees,  on  the  odd  days,  at  the  Imperial,  at  the  western 
end  of  the  Westminster  Aquarium,  on  the  site  of  which 
is  built  the  great  Central  Wesleyan  establishment. 
Phelps  played  John  Bull,  The  Man  of  the  World,  and 
finally,  The  School  for  Scandal.  Miss  Litton  made  an 
excellent  Lady  Teazle;  that  very  fine  actress,  Mrs. 
Stirling,  was  an  admirable  Mrs.  Candour,  of  course; 
Phelps  asked  Robertson  to  let  me  play  Charles  Surface 
on  the  strength  of  my  success  in  the  part  in  Manchester, 
but  William  Farren — for  years  the  Charles  of  the  grand 
old  Haymarket  company — had  expressed  a  wish  to 
play  with  Phelps  before  he  retired,  and  had  been  engaged 
to  do  so.  Then  my  old  friend  "  switched-off "  and 
suggested  me  for  Joseph.  This  was  settled,  and  I  had 
the  immense  satisfaction  of  gaining  the  favour  of  the 
public  and  the  Press  of  London  from  The  Times  down  ! 


92      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

So  I  had  succeeded  with  him  as  the  two  brothers,  with 
their  very  different  characteristics,  and  found  not  a 
Uttle  of  my  pleasure  in  the  fact  that  I  had  justified  his 
interest  and  recommendation  and  received  his  very 
hearty  congratulations.  William  Farren's  Charles  was, 
as  it  was  bound  to  be,  most  legitimate  and  fine. 


XI 

In  April,  1878,  Hollingshead  released  me  for  a  month 
to  play  with  Mrs.  Rousby  at  the  old  Queen's  in  a  play 
adapted  from  the  German  by  Daniel  E.  Bandmann,  the 
tragedian,  entitled  Madeleine  Morell.  It  was  not  very 
successful,  and  was  the  occasion  of  a  painfully  un- 
pleasant lawsuit  between  Mrs.  Rousby  and  the  author, 
in  which  I  had  to  appear  as  a  witness,  much  to  my 
annoyance.  It  was  decided  in  the  lady's  favour,  but 
did  not  do  either  party  much  good  or  credit.  Band- 
mann's  leading  counsel  was  Serjeant  Parry,  a  famous 
barrister  of  the  day,  father  of  the  present  popular  Judge 
Parry,  of  County  Court  fame,  who  is  a  prolific  and 
charming  writer  of   both  books  and  plays. 

One  matinee  I  assisted  at  was  of  that  very  fine  play 
Lovers  Sacrifice  with  a  great  cast.  It  was  to  introduce  a 
pupil  of  John  Maclean's,  another  Gaiety  actor — Miss 
Agnes  Leonard — and  as  well  as  herself  and  Maclean, 
Fernandez,  Ryder,  John  Billington,  Harry  Paulton, 
myself,  Miss  Ellen  Meyrick,  and  Miss  Cicely  Nott  took 
part.  What  a  magnificent  play  it  is,  and,  well  acted, 
how  it  "  opened  the  eyes  "  of  many  modern-day  play- 
goers on  that  particular  afternoon  ! 

When  I  left  the  Gaiety,  what  John  Hollingshead 
facetiously  described  as  "  the  sacred  lamp  of  burlesque  " 
was  burning  brightly.     Edward  Terry,  a  great  comedy 

93 


94      FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

and  burlesque  actor;  E.  Royce,  a  good  second  and 
perhaps  the  finest  character  dancer  ever  seen;  Nelly 
Farren  (the  idol  of  the  London  "  boys  "),  an  inimitably 
dashing  burlesque  boy,  and  Kate  Vaughan,  daintiest  of 
dancers,  with  infinite  charm,  made  up  a  quartet  which 
drew  all  London  for  months  at  a  stretch.  Connie 
Gilchrist,  the  present  Countess  of  Orkney,  was  also  "  in 
the  team  "  at  that  time.  Kate  Vaughan  was  not  really 
a  great  dancer  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  but  her 
unique  grace  and  her  innumerable  pretty  varieties  of 
the  valse  gave  her  a  hold  over  the  spectators  that  many 
great  dancers  might  have  envied.  The  expression 
"  sacred  lamp  "  reminds  me  of  a  fact,  not  generally 
known,  as  showing  John  Hollingshead's  many-sided 
enterprise.  I  wonder  how  many  people  remember  that 
the  very  first  electric  light  ever  shown  in  public  in 
London  was  put  up  by  him  in  the  Strand,  outside  the 
old  Gaiety  ? 

In  the  autumn  of  1878  I  was  engaged  for  the  first 
provincial  tour  of  Diplomacy,  immediately  after  its  long 
and  successful  run  in  London.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal, 
who  were  in  the  original  London  cast,  had  secured  the 
rights  for  the  eight  largest  provincial  towns,  and  our 
proprietors  had  them  for  all  the  others,  opening  at 
Portsmouth  on  July  29.  We  had  quite  a  strong  com- 
pany, with  J.  D.  Beveridge  as  Henri  Beauclere  and  E.  D. 
Ward  as  Count  Orloff;  I  played  Julian  Beauclere. 
Ward  had  a  most  beautiful  stage  voice.  C.  Langford 
was  Baron  Stein;  Walter  Everard,  Algie  Fairfax;  Miss 
Carlyle,  Dora ;  and  Miss  Bella  Murdoch,  Countess  Zicka. 
Miss  Murdoch  was  the  daughter  of  an  old  and  respected 
actor,  Mr.  Mortimer  Murdoch,  and  was  the  first  Mrs. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      95 

George  S.  Titheradge.  Other  members  of  the  company 
were  Mrs.  William  Sidney,  Miss  Sophie  Eyre,  Miss 
Armstrong,  Mr.  Jordan,  etc.  We  were  carefully  re- 
hearsed by  Mr.  Bancroft  (as  he  then  wasfs^ith  the 
infinity  of  detail  for  which  he  was  noted,  and  I  really 
think  we  played  the  piece  very  well.  Indeed,  more  than 
one  provincial  playgoer  compared  us  favourably  with  the 
other  company.  What  a  fine  play  it  is  !  How  splen- 
didly constructed  and  of  what  absorbing  interest !  It 
has  been  more  than  once  revived  in  London  since  its 
first  run,  and,  as  I  write,  its  present  revival  is  nearing  a 
full  year  of  performances.  How  much  better  for  all 
concerned,  especially  the  actors,  than  the  filthy,  sordid, 
morbid  garbage  drama  which  is  nowadays  advocated  by  a 
certain  section  of  the  Press,  and  which  not  only  empties 
all  the  theatres  where  it  is  played,  but  is  slowly  and 
surely  killing  the  "  theatre  habit  "  amongst  the  public, 
by  whose  favour  and  patronage  alone  the  actor  can  live. 

On  November  16,  1878,  I  heard  with  the  deepest 
sorrow  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Phelps.  I  was  in  Southport 
at  the  time,  and,  oddly  enough,  I  had  resigned  my  engage- 
ment that  particular  week.  Of  course,  I  came  up  to 
London  for  his  funeral  and  terminated  my  contract 
finally  at  the  end  of  the  week. 

November  30,  1878,  I  opened  at  the  Princess's  Theatre 
in  a  play  called  No.  20  of  the  Bastille  of  Calvados,  by 
Joseph  Hatton  and  James  Albery.  Charles  Warner 
and  I  played  the  two  opposing  leading  parts.  It  was  a 
pronounced  and  hopeless  failure,  only  running  a  few 
weeks. 

The  next  few  months  were  not  very  eventful  in  my 
work.     I  played  some  odd  engagements,  including  the 


96      FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

creation  of  a  leading  part  in  a  play  written  by,  and  under 
the  management  of,  Frank  Harvey  at  the  old  Olympic 
Theatre,  entitled  The  Mother.  Frank  Harvey  was  the 
husband  of  Mile.  Beatrice,  whose  company  had  a  great 
reputation  in  the  provinces  of  Great  Britain.  When  she 
died  Harvey  carried  on  the  company  for  years.  Besides 
being  an  excellent  actor,  he  wrote  and  adapted  from  the 
French  many  good-acting  and  successful  plays. 

The  Lyceum,  after  the  death  of  H.  L.  Bateman,  had 
been  taken  over  by  Henry  Irving  and  carried  on  under 
his  sole  management.  For  a  short  summer  season  in 
1879  he  let  it  to  Miss  Genevieve  Ward,  who  engaged  me, 
and  we  opened  with  a  play  called  Zillah,  by  Palgrave 
Simpson  and  Claude  Templar.  She  essayed  a  dual  r61e 
of  a  princess  and  a  gipsy.  The  play  was  another  bad 
failure,  but  the  first  night  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
I  can  ever  remember.  Very  amusing  to  look  back  on, 
but  extremely  unpleasant  to  have  been  associated  with. 
It  was  one  of  those  painful  occasions  when  the  audience 
(as  they  did  sometimes  in  those  days)  chose  to  "  guy  " 
and  to  reply  to  the  lines  spoken  on  the  stage.  The 
number  of  lines  they  found  to  reply  to,  and  the  wonderful 
replies  they  made  !  One  of  the  characters  said,  "  Ah  ! 
I  see  it  all."  Voice  from  the  pit :  "  Do  you,  by  gad  ! 
we  don't."  Some  papers  had  been  lowered  into  a  well 
in  a  bucket.  A  character  said  :  "  If  I  could  only  find 
those  papers  !  "  A  gallery  wit  responded  :  "  Look  in 
the  bucket,  you  old  fool,  and  get  it  over."  But  the 
honours  of  the  evening  were  reserved  for  Mr.  Tom  Mead, 
a  very  fine  old  actor,  with  a  splendid  voice,  loud  and 
sonorous.  Mr.  Mead  had,  in  his  later  life,  developed  an 
unfortunate  habit  of  thinking  aloud,  and  as  "  aloud  " 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      97 

meant  (with  him)  stentorian  tones,  it  could,  and  some- 
times did,  become  very  funny.  In  Zillah  he  had  never 
been  quite  easy  in  his  words  at  rehearsal,  and  in  the 
nervousness  of  the  first  night  he  forgot  his  first  line,  and 
came  down  to  the  footlights,  saying  :  "  Well,  here  I  am," 
which  had  no  particular  reference  to  the  scene  in  progress, 
and  got  a  very  sound  laugh.  Later  on  he  forgot  the 
hero's  name,  which  was  Paul  de  Roseville,  and  dwelling 
on  the  Christian  name,  like  the  tolling  of  "  Big  Ben,"  he 

said,  hesitatingly  :   ""  Paul — Paul — Paul "     A  wit  in 

front  said  :  "  Paul — Paul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?  " 
Of  course,  a  yell  of  laughter  followed.  Again  he  tried 
the  same  name  and  got  it,  but  with  an  unfortunate 
addition,  "  Paul  de  Roseville,"  (and  in  the  same  tone  :) 
"  Moustache  is  coming  off,  by  gad."  Another  yell. 
Then  he  had  a  difficulty  about  the  locale  of  the  play,  and 
said,  all  in  one  tone  :  "  Never  shall  it  be  said  that  in  this 
our  good  city  of  Toulouse  ! — no  !  Toulon  ! — no  !  His 
Toulouse y  Imagine  what  this  meant  to  an  audience 
already  grown  uproarious.  And  so  the  play  dragged  on 
to  the  end — a  heartbreaking  night  and  a  dismal  "  frost." 
And  yet  that  very  night  was  perhaps  the  making  of 
Miss  Ward's  fortune.  Through  the  failure  of  Zillah 
she  got  that  fine  play  Forget-Me-Not,  by  Herman 
Merivale  and  Grove,  which  was  an  immediate  success. 
She  could  only  play  it,  however,  at  the  Lyceum  a  few 
weeks,  as  Irving's  autumn  season  was  due.  When  a 
suitable  theatre  was  obtained  for  its  new  home  it  ran 
for  many  months  in  London,  and  went  over  all  the  world, 
making  her,  I  presume  and  hope,  a  good,  big  fortune. 

Pending  the  production  of  Forget-Me-Not  we  played 
a  revival  of  Lucrezia  Borgia  for  two  or  three  weeks,  in 


98      FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

which  I  played  the  fine  part  of  the  Duke.  I  did  not 
play  in  Forget-Me-Not  ;  but  it  may  interest  Miss  Ward, 
at  this  distance  of  time,  to  know  that  maybe  I  was 
indirectly  instrumental  in  its  coming  to  her.  As  thus  : 
I  had  read  the  play  when  I  was  with  Miss  Neilson  in 
1874;  she  was  then  considering  its  production,  as  it  had 
been  written  with  a  view  to  her  playing  it.  In  1879  I 
was  living  for  the  summer  in  the  King's  Road,  Kingston, 
about  four  doors  from  Merivale,  and  the  day  after  Zillah 
failed  so  hopelessly,  remembering  the  play,  I  went  to 
him  and  suggested  his  submitting  it  to  Miss  Ward.  I 
don't  know  whether  my  suggestion  had  anything  to  do 
with  it,  but  it  is  certain  she  produced  the  play  almost 
immediately,  with  the  gratifying  result  known.  A  few 
lines  were  altered  here  and  there  to  make  it  fit  her 
personality,  which  was  considerably  different  from  Miss 
Neilson's. 

Recurring  for  a  moment  to  the  "  gentle  art  of  guying  " 
from  the  front  of  the  house,  what  a  cowardly  proceeding 
it  is  !  Much  the  same  as  beating  a  tied-up  dog.  The 
artist  is  quite  powerless,  as  the  dog  is.  And  yet  some 
very  funny  things  are  said.  There  was  the  historic 
occasion  when  an  actor  (George  W.),  in  a  play  that  was 
failing,  had  the  fateful  line,  "  Oh  !  this  is  dreadful," 
and  the  wag  in  the  pit  said,  "  George,  it's  perfectly 
awful."  But  I  once  heard  a  remark  from  the  gallery 
that  was  quite  irresistible.  Before  the  present  Earl 
of  Kilmorey  succeeded  to  the  title  and  was  Lord  Newry 
he  was  considerably  interested  in  theatrical  specula- 
tions. I  think  he  was  the  landlord  of  both  the  Globe 
and  St.  James's  Theatres.  He  may  be  still  of  the 
latter.      He    also     adapted    and    wrote    one    or    two 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      99 

plays.  A  play  by  him  called  Ecarte  was  produced 
at  the  old  Globe.  He  was  not  altogether  lucky  in  his 
east.  One  of  the  principal  characters  was  (from  one 
cause  or  another)  sadly  out  of  drawing,  and  the  play  was 
performed  to  a  sort  of  running  commentary  of  "  chaff ". 
But  just  about  half-way  through  the  last  act,  at  about 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  a  sort  of  heavy  father  of 
the  story  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair  with  his  daughter  on 
a  footstool  at  his  knee  and  began  what  bade  fair  to  be  a 
good  stereotyped  explanatory  speech.  As  far  as  I 
remember  it  began  something  like  this  :  "  'Tis  many 
years  ago,  my  child,  your  mother  died,"  when  a  fellow- 
countryman  of  Lord  Newry's  in  the  gallery  observed 
in  the  sweetest  brogue  imaginable  :  "  Och  !  now  thin 
for  the  plot !  "  Of  course,  the  whole  house  exploded 
with  laughter,  and  who  could  help  it  ? 

As  will  be  gathered,  the  last  nine  months  dealt  with 
was  not  a  very  fruitful  time  for  me  professionally,  but 
my  luck  was  soon  to  re-assert  itself.  Henry  Irving  had 
engaged  me  for  the  autumn  before  the  commencement 
of  Miss  Ward's  season,  and  I  began  my  work  with  him 
in  September  1879,  as  Fitzharding  in  The  Iron  Chest 
and  the  light  comedy  part  in  the  old  farce  of  The  Boarding 
School.  The  Iron  Chest  is  a  play  by  George  Colman  the 
younger,  taken  from  Godwin's  Caleb  Williams.  It 
had  been  a  great  favourite  with  Edmund  Kean,  and  he 
used  to  play  it  frequently,  but  though  it  was  beautifully 
produced  at  the  Lyceum,  with  all  the  original  music  (by 
Storace),  including  the  chorus  so  popular  with  our 
grandparents — 

"Holy  friars  tippled  here 
Ere  these  abbey  walla  had  crumbled," 


100    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

and  everything  possible  done  for  it,  it  was  voted  old- 
fashioned  and  turgid  (as  it  was),  and  it  only  ran  a  few 
weeks.  Fitzharding  was  a  part  quite  out  of  my  line 
at  the  time — a  sort  of  old  buck  of  the  Georgian  period, 
and  I  was  surprised  at  being  east  for  it,  especially  as  a 
dear  old  friend,  Clifford  Cooper,  was  a  member  of  the 
company  at  the  time,  and  it  was  just  in  his  way.  How- 
ever, I  managed  to  pull  through,  and  my  old  friend  was 
most  genially  pleasant  about  it.  On  the  withdrawal 
of  The  Iron  Chest  we  played  Hamlet  for  a  few  nights,  and 
I  had  another  shock  in  being  cast  for  the  part  of  Osric. 
Then  came  the  great  revival  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice 
with  Irving's  first  appearance  as  Shylock  on  November  1, 
1879,  and  Miss  Ellen  Terry  as  Portia.  Henry  Forrester, 
a  good  actor  and  elocutionist,  played  Antonio;  Frank 
R.  Cooper,  Gratiano;  I  played  Bassanio.  Salanio  and 
Salarino  were  played  by  A.  Elwood  and  A.  W.  Pinero. 
Others  in  the  cast  were  Clifford  Cooper  and  Sam  Johnson 
as  the  Gobbos.  Florence  Terry  was  Nerissa,  etc.  Our 
most  distinguished  dramatist  (now  Sir  Arthur  \V.  Pinero) 
was  then  only  feeling  his  way  to  the  great  position  he  has 
since  taken,  and,  during  that  season,  produced  a  charm- 
ing one-act  comedietta,  entitled  Daisy's  Escape,  at  the 
Lyceum,  in  which  he  played  a  very  admirable  character 
study  of  a  sort  of  cockney  cad. 


XII 

In  approaching  the  subject  of  Irving's  Shylock  and  his 
acting  generally,  I  feel  that  I  am  entering  on  dangerous 
ground.  Henry  Irving  occupied  so  prominent  a  position 
in  the  public  eye  for  so  long  a  time  and  there  was  such 
an  element  of  magnetic  glamour  about  his  whole  career 
that,  at  first,  it  may  appear  presumptuous  in  me  to 
attempt  to  say  anything  about  a  man  of  whom  so  much 
has  been  written  by  many  of  the  greatest  minds  of  his 
time.  But  most  of  his  biographers  and  commentators 
have  been  people  outside  his  own  calling,  and  therefore 
a  few  words  from  one  on  the  inside  may  not  seem  so 
much  out  of  place  after  all,  when  we  are  far  enough  off 
to  view  the  facts  dispassionately. 

"We  needs  must  love  the  highest  when  we  see  it. 
Not  Lancelot  nor  another." 

And  there  is  no  kind  of  doubt  that  Irving  was  a  great 
actor,  a  very  great  actor,  indeed.  But  the  same  great 
Shakespeare  of  England  is  open  to  us  all,  and  I  should  be  a 
poor  thing  and  unworthy  of  having  these  pages  read  if  I 
had  not  the  courage  of  my  opinion  to  the  extent  of  noting, 
here  and  there,  points  which  appear  to  me  worthy  of  con- 
sideration. Then,  again,  it  is  not  always  opinion  only 
which  is  involved.     When  a  man  has  played  alongside  a 

number  of  foremost  artists,  male  and  female,  and  has  had 

101 


102    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

the  opportunity  of  observing  their  great  thoughts  and 
great  effects,  it  is  ofttimes  as  much  a  matter  of  memory. 
As  well  as  what  you  think  a  part  or  scene  ought  to  he,  there 
is  what  you  have  seen  it  he,  and  he  would  be  false  to  his 
art  and  the  memory  of  Shakespeare  to  say  that  something 
which  he  did  not  think  as  good  was  better  than  his 
experiences  had  shown  him.  Having  said  so  much,  I 
have  no  hesitation  whatever  in  declaring  that  Irving 
was  the  best  actor  I  ever  saw,  or  ever  expect  to  see,  in 
a  great  number  of  parts.  In  The  Bells,  Louis  XI.,  and 
The  Lyons  Mail  he  was  incomparable  !  His  Charles  I. 
was  a  most  beautiful  performance.  Much  of  his  Hamlet 
was  very  fine  indeed.  In  parts  of  the  more  physical 
nature  he  may  not  have  been  quite  so  satisfying.  His 
King  Lear,  Othello,  Macbeth,  Coriolanus  were  open  to 
criticism.  Most  certainly  his  Malvolio,  Richelieu,  and 
Wolsey  were  not  equal  to  Phelps's.  In  many  comedy 
character  parts,  such  as  Digby  Grant  {Two  Roses), 
Chevenix  {Uncle  Dick's  Darling),  Jingle  {Pickwick)  he 
was  quite  splendid.  In  Romeo  and  Claude  Melnotte  he 
was  not  at  his  best.  I  have  always  held  a  theory  that  in 
playing  or  reading  the  poetry  and  the  poetic  drama 
of  any  country,  whether  English,  French,  Spanish,  or 
Italian,  etc.,  it  is  an  absolute  essential  that  the  language 
shall  be  spoken  in  its  positive  purity,  so  that  (to  apply  a 
test)  a  foreigner  sitting  in  the  front  of  a  theatre  armed  with 
a  lexicon  of  the  language  being  spoken  should  be  able 
to  refer  thereto  for  the  meaning  of  any  word  falling  on 
his  ear  with  which  he  is  unacquainted.  Now  some  of  the 
mannerisms  of  speech  which  grew  on  Irving  year  by 
year  would  certainly  not  have  stood  this  test.  I  say 
"  grew  on,"  because  that  is  the  hona  fide  fact.     When 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     103 

I  was  a  playgoer,  before  entering  the  actor's  calling,  I 
saw  practically  all  his  performances,  and,  in  those  days, 
certainly  he  had  none  of  these  mannerisms,  absolutely 
none.  They  first  appeared,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect,  in 
his  masterly  performance  of  Digby  Grant.  They  fitted 
that  character  to  admiration,  and  little  by  little  crept 
into  all  his  work.  It  used  to  be  said  that  the  audience 
always  wanted  a  low  comedian  to  be  himself,  and  per- 
petually reveal  the  same  personality.  I  doubt  if  it  was 
true,  but  I  am  quite  sure  it  would  be  inadvisable  for  an 
actor  playing  a  wide  range  of  the  great  heroic  parts. 
There  were  moments  undoubtedly  when  Irving's  man- 
nerisms and  readings  of  some  of  Shakespeare's  immortal 
lines  left  something  to  be  desired  either  in  considering 
their  own  intrinsic  beauty  or  as  an  object-lesson  to  the 
intelligent  foreigner  already  mentioned.  Of  Irving  the 
man  it  would  need  an  abler  pen  than  mine  to  speak.  He 
was  a  fine  fellow,  a  loyal  friend,  a  brilliant  host,  generous 
to  all  and  to  a  fault,  a  great  tactician  and  diplomatist 
(a  man  who  would  have  succeeded  in  any  walk  of  life 
that  he  had  chosen  to  take  up),  with  tremendous  mag- 
netism and  charm.  In  our  calling  a  great  stage  manager. 
One  hears  a  good  deal  of  the  schools  formed  by  different 
great  actors,  and  one  often  reads  of  the  Irving  School. 
Now,  this,  I  think,  is  rather  misleading.  Undoubtedly 
his  eye  for  stage  effect  was  unique,  but  the  imparting  of 
ideas  to  young  people  was  not  by  any  means  his  strong 
point.  His  instructions  were  often  halting,  vague,  and 
lacking  in  directness,  which  made  it  difficult  for  the 
tyro  to  gather  what  was  expected  or  required  of  him. 

Of  Miss  Terry  it  is  equally  difficult  to  write  (or  even 
more  so,  during  her  lifetime). 


104    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

Miss  Terry  was,  beyond  all  question,  a  most  charming 
actress,  and  when  a  part  came  within  the  radius  of  her 
charm  she  was  quite  irresistible.  As  Lilian  Vavasour 
{New  Men  and  Old  Acres),  Olivia  {The  Amber  Heart), 
Beatrice,  Portia,  Viola,  etc.,  she  was  superb.  But  I 
venture  to  think  that  her  limitations  were  well  defined, 
and  that  some  of  the  stronger  parts  of  the  Shakespearean 
drama  were  well  outside  them.  Her  "  thick  and  thin  " 
admirers  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Press  ap- 
peared to  allow  their  "  reason  to  be  taken  prisoner  " 
and  to  praise  all  her  performances  alike  without  analysis, 
which  is  a  pity,  when  dealing  with  great  artistic  ideals, 
because  of  its  baneful  influence  with  the  student  and  the 
aspirant  who  are  always  too  ready  to  follow  the  lead  of 
artists  of  prominence. 

"  Harking  back  "  to  The  Merchant  of  Venice  at  the 
Lyceum,  it  is  a  matter  of  history  that  it  was  a  wonderful 
success  and  ran  well  on  to  300  performances  consecutively. 
Irving's  Shylock  was  full  of  interest  and  was  a  really 
fine  study  indeed,  and  Miss  Terry's  Portia  was  bewitching 
and  artistic  in  all  the  scenes  at  Belmont.  Her  trial 
scene  was,  perhaps,  less  convincing.  The  whole  per- 
formance of  this  same  trial  scene,  I  submit,  merits  some 
special  consideration. 

An  article  I  wrote  for  The  Stage  (June  8,  1899)  on  the 
subject  of  stage  traditions  contained  the  following 
note — 

"  Shylock  :  I  have  read  and  re-read  most  of  what  has 
been  written  about  the  '  Jew  that  Skakespeare  drew,' 
and  the  authorities  who  declare  it  was  the  author's 
intention  to  rehabilitate  or  beget  a  sympathy  for  the 
Jewish  race,  then  suffering  under  gross  tyrannies  and 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     105 

cruelties  :  and  I  willingly  admit  that,  up  to  a  certain 
point  in  the  play,  Shylock  is  a  most  ill-used  man,  and 
fully  deserving  of  all  the  sympathy  of  the  audience ;  but 
the  modern-day  rendering  of  Shylock  as  sympathetic  in 
the  trial  scene  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  in.  If 
ever  a  cold-blooded  murderer  was  drawn,  in  all  his 
hateful  intensity,  this  is  the  example.  If  Shakespeare 
intended  Shylock  to  win  sympathy  here,  how  easy  to 
have  made  him  prove  his  rights,  beyond  all  dispute,  and 
then  forgive  the  Christian  who  had  so  foully  wronged 
him.  Here  would  have  been  sympathy  indeed.  Here 
would  have  been  a  monument  of  a  wronged  Jew's 
magnanimity.  But  no  !  He  proceeds  to  the  extremest 
limit  the  law  allows  him;  proceeds  to  what  cannot  fail 
to  be  a  cruel  murder  with  the  coolness  of  a  butcher 
killing  sheep.  Again,  I  apply  the  test  of  the  author's 
words.  Shakespeare  laid  out  the  scheme  of  this  act 
with  those  superb  verbal  rejoinders  or  climaxes  of 
Gratiano's — 

" '  O  learned  judge  !    Mark,  Jew,  a  learned  judge ! ' 
and 

" '  A  second  Daniel,  a  Daniel,  Jew  ! 

Now,  infidel,  I  have  thee  on  the  hip.' 
and 

"*A  Daniel  still  I  say!  a  second  Daniel — 

I  thank  thee,  Jew,  for  teaching  me  that  word.' 

All  of  which  he  takes,  as  it  were,  from  the  mouth  of 
Shylock ;  and  I  refuse  to  believe  that  the  author  intended 
Gratiano  to  be  here  regarded  by  the  audience  as  an 
impudent  coxcomb,  which  is  inevitable  if  Shylock  carries 
the  sympathy  of  this  scene.  No,  the  baffled,  angry, 
turbulent,  tragic  (in  other  words,  the  traditional  exit 


106  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

of  Edmund  Kean  and  others)  is  surely  nearer  to  the 
author's  intention  and  most  certainly  more  effective  to 
the  audience." 

I  have  ventured  to  reproduce  this  note  in  extenso  here 
for  two  special  reasons  :  First,  because  the  years  between 
have  deepened  rather  than  in  any  way  changed  the  view 
expressed ;  and,  second,  because  in  conversations  I  had 
with  Irving  when  on  my  last  tour  with  him  in  1901  I 
think  he  was  almost  disposed  to  agree  with  my  view ;  and 
here  I  am  going  to  take  a  rather  bold  step  and  to  express 
my  curiosity  as  to  whether  or  not  the  Shylock  he  played 
and  made  so  famous  was  absolutely  the  Shylock  he  would 
have  played  if  he  had  possessed  a  greater  amount  of 
physical  power.  Of  course,  the  Shylock  I  have  in  mind 
depends  on  the  actor's  power  to  play  the  great  scene  with 
Tubal  in  the  earlier  act  that  begins 

"You  knew,  none  so  well  as  you,  none  so  well  as  you,  of  my 
daughter's  flight." 

It  is  here  he  must  build  up  the  character  with  gradu- 
ated awful  intensity,  and  it  is  here  that  Edmund  Kean 
and  his  disciples  used  "  to  lift  the  audience  out  of  their 
seats,"  as  they  did  in  the  final  exit  from  the  trial  scene, 
which  I  have  seen  played  in  a  whirlwind  of  passion. 
Now,  I  may  be  taking  a  great  liberty  with  the  memory 
of  a  man  for  whom  I  entertain  nothing  but  profound 
respect,  but  I  have  always  fancied  that  at  the  early 
rehearsals  I  saw  him  "  make  shots  "  at  the  big  scheme, 
and,  with  his  great  mentality,  recognise  that  it  was  out 
of  his  reach,  and  so,  by  degrees,  he  came  to  develop  with 
consummate  art  a  Shylock  he  could  compass.  This  may 
be  considered  an  untenable  hypothesis  on  my  part,  but 
I  don't  think  it  is  very  "  wide  of  the  mark,"  and  it 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     107 

proves  nothing  more  than  his  tremendous  ability  and  his 
power  to  lead  his  fellow-men.  During  the  run  of  the 
play  one  or  two  curious  incidents  occurred.  One 
Saturday  night,  quite  in  the  later  days,  after  a  matinee, 
Henry  Forrester,  as  Antonio,  forgot  his  lines  in  his  first 
scene  and  suffered  from  complete  temporary  loss  of 
memory.  None  of  us  could  prompt  him.  As  he  ex- 
pressed it  afterwards,  the  theatre  seemed  one  blaze  of 
light  and  he  could  not  recall  anything.  Irving  had  to 
come  on  at  an  earlier  cue  as  Shylock  and  take  the  scene 
up  and  go  on ;  meantime  Forrester  recovered  himself  and 
all  was  well  again. 

The  250th  performance  was  a  great  occasion.  Imme- 
diately on  the  fall  of  the  curtain  the  stage  was  taken 
possession  of  by  an  army  of  waiters,  etc.,  and  was 
transformed  into  a  huge  marquee,  where  a  large  number 
of  London's  foremost  men  of  art,  letters,  and  brains 
of  every  kind  gathered  at  Irving's  invitation  to  supper. 
The  company  were  included  in  the  invitation.  It  was  a 
most  noteworthy  assemblage  and  did  not  pass  off  without 
a  hona-fide  thrill.  The  late  Lord  Houghton,  the  poet, 
had  been  selected  to  propose  the  health  of  our  host.  He 
rose  to  do  so,  and  it  was  soon  apparent  that  if  he  had 
"  primed  "  himself  for  the  task  he  had  relied  on  mis- 
leading aid.  He  mentioned  in  turn  all  the  Shy  locks  he 
had  ever  seen,  and,  as  far  as  we  could  gather,  the  only 
one  in  whom  he  could  see  no  merit,  or  at  all  events,  the 
least  merit,  was  the  man  we  were  gathered  together  to 
honour.  It  was  a  moment  of  most  painful  tension.  We 
scarcely  dared  look  at  each  other  when  Irving  rose  to 
respond,  bland,  genial,  courteous,  and  master  of  the 
situation,  and  with  infinite  tact,  gracefully  turned  the 


108    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

whole  matter  into  a  humorous  groove :  put  everybody 
at  his  ease  at  once,  and  proved  (if  proof  were  needed) 
his  ability  to  grapple  with  a  knotty  point  as  only  the 
skilled  diplomatist  can.  I  doubt  if  he  ever  gave  a 
greater  performance  of  a  thoroughly  difficult  part  and 
scene. 


XIII 

Foe  the  last  few  weeks  of  the  run  (on  May  20,  1880, 
to  be  exact)  we  played  The  Merchant  of  Venice  without 
the  last  act — finishing  with  its  trial  scene,  and,  as  an 
after-piece,  played  a  beautiful  version  of  the  Danish 
play  poem,  King  Rene's  Daughter,  by  W.  G.  Wills. 
There  were  several  versions  of  this  play  extant.  I  had 
played  in  two  before  the  one  in  question,  but  I  think 
Wills's  was  by  far  the  best.  The  delightful  legend  just 
suited  his  style  of  writing.  Irving  played  the  lover 
(Count  Tristan);  Frank  Cooper,  Sir  Geoffrey;  I,  King 
Rene ;  Tom  Mead,  the  physician,  Eben  Jahia ;  and  Miss 
Ellen  Terry,  the  blind  daughter.  A  marvellously 
beautiful  scene  was  supplied  by  Hawes  Craven,  and  with 
gorgeous  costume,  etc.,  and  very  careful  rehearsals,  it 
was  voted  a  great  success.  A  rather  ludicrous  accident 
occurred  one  night,  which,  in  a  theatre  of  less  reverence, 
might  easily  have  wrecked  the  performance  for  that 
occasion.  Irving  and  Frank  Cooper  were  both  very 
shortsighted,  and  the  former  dropped  a  jewelled  amulet, 
used  in  the  play,  and  tried  in  vain  to  find  it  with  his 
foot.  Failing  to  do  so,  he  whispered  to  Cooper  :  "  Where 
is  it,  Frank  ?  Find  it  !  Find  it  !  "  Frank  whispered 
in  reply  :  "  I  can't,  governor ;  I  am  more  blind  than  you 
are."  And  here  was  a  complete  deadlock,  when  be- 
hold !  the  blind  girl  (Miss  Terry)  came  on  and  picked 

109 


110    FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

it  up  and  handed  it  to  "  the  chief  !  "  It  was  absolutely 
the  only  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  happily,  the 
audience  did  not  notice  the  comic  side  of  the  incident, 
or  were  too  well-behaved  to  show  that  they  did. 

W.  G.  Wills,  the  author  of  this  play,  was  a  rather 
extraordinary  man,  who  merits  more  than  a  passing 
reference  from  one  who  knew  him.  An  Irishman,  with 
a  pronounced  though  rather  delightful  brogue,  he 
occupied  a  pleasant  studio  in  Chelsea,  where  he  lived 
and  worked  with  his  secretary,  Alfred  C.  Calmour,  who 
afterwards  wrote  The  Amber  Heart  for  Miss  Terry,  and 
other  plays.  A  Bohemian  of  the  most  pronounced 
type,  with  unkempt  beard  and  shabby  clothes,  and  a 
generally  soiled  and  neglected  appearance — steeped 
to  the  lips  in  literature  of  the  best  kind — and,  ap- 
parently, thinking  blank  verse  by  day  and  dreaming 
it  by  night,  as  well  as  painting  pictures,  many  of  them 
much  above  the  average.  What  a  lot  of  fine  plays 
he  wTote — Charles  /.,  Eugene  Aram,  Vanderdecken 
{The  Flying  Dutchman),  for  Irving;  Jane  Shore  and 
Juanna  for  Wilson  Barrett  and  Miss  Heath ;  Medea  for 
Miss  Bateman;  Jane  Eyre  for  IVIrs.  Beere,  etc.,  etc. 
Of  these  Charles  I.  was,  easily,  the  most  popular.  It 
came  just  when  Irving  was  making  his  great  mark 
and  greatly  helped  him  on  the  road  to  fame.  What  a 
beautiful  performance  he  gave  of  the  part  !  His  regal 
dignity,  tenderness  and  pathos  were  beyond  praise. 
I  was  present  at  the  first  performance  of  the  play  in 
September  1872,  and  a  very  unusual  thing  occurred. 
\^^len  the  curtain  went  up  on  the  first  scene,  which 
represented  a  glade  at  Hampton  Court,  so  vividly  real 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     111 

was  it,  and  so  beautifully  painted,  that  the  audience 
absolutely  refused  to  allow  a  word  to  be  spoken  until 
that  splendid  artist,  Hawes  Craven,  had  come  on  and 
bowed  his  acknowledgments  of  their  congratulation. 
I  have  never  seen  this  occur  on  any  other  occasion.  In 
Charles  I.  the  treatment  of  the  character  of  Cromwell 
raised  a  tremendous  outcry  and,  truth  to  say,  the  great 
Protector  is  represented  in  an  unduly  truculent  and 
unworthy  light — considerably  at  variance  with  the 
impression  one  gets  who  reads  the  history  of  the  times. 
I  never  heard  Wills 's  reason  for  this ;  or  whether  he 
was  a  rabid  Royalist.  One  might  imagine  so.  But 
it  brought  about  one  result.  A  Colonel  Richards, 
connected  with  the  staff  of  one  of  the  big  London  daily 
newspapers  {The  Morning  Advertiser,  if  my  memory 
serves  me  correctly),  had  written  an  ambitious  play  with 
Cromwell  as  the  central  figure.  As  a  sort  of  protest  this 
play  was  immediately  produced  at  the  old  Queen's,  with 
George  Rignold  as  Cromwell  (at  the  Lyceum  the  charac- 
ter was  originally  played  by  George  Belmore).  I  saw 
this  play,  too.  It  was  not  a  good  one,  but  had  one 
magnificent  scene  (in  fact,  it  was  a  one-scene  play), 
where  Cromwell  had  a  glorious  soliloquy  over  the  coffin 
of  the  King.  However,  it  failed  to  live ;  and  Wills's 
Charles  I.  remained  a  popular  feature  of  Irving's  reper- 
tory till  his  death,  and  has  been  played  by  his  son  (H. 
B.)  since. 

A  very  interesting  story  was  extant  at  the  time  anent 
the  writing  of  Charles  I.  It  ran  thus  :  Wills  had  got  to 
the  end  of  the  third  act  of  the  play  to  the  great  satis- 
faction of  Bateman  and  Irving  himself,  but  could  not 


112    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

find  a  solution  for  the  end  of  it.  One  night  all  three 
of  them  had  supped  at  Bateman's  house  in  Kensington. 
Gore  and  Bateman  had  left  the  table  and  was  lying  on 
the  sofa  smoking.  As  Wills  and  Irving  were  chatting 
over  their  cigars,  Bateman  (who  had  appeared  to  be 
half  asleep)  suddenly  sprang  up,  saying  :  "  Wills,  by 
gad  !  I've  got  it."  Both  said  "  What  ?  "  Said  Bateman, 
'*  The  last  act  of  Charles  I.  Wills,  have  you  ever  read 
Black- Ey^d  Susan? '^  Of  course,  Wills  had  not, 
probably  (dreamer  as  he  was)  he  had  never  heard  of 
it.  Said  Bateman  :  "Go  and  get  a  book  at  French's 
and  read  the  parting  of  William  and  Susan."  Wills  did 
so,  and  finished  Charles  I.  Now,  I  give  this  story  for 
what  it  is  worth ;  but  most  certainly  facts  bear  it  out 
marvellously,  because  the  two  situations  are  identical, 
even  to  the  disposal  of  the  trinkets,  always  allowing 
for  the  difference  created  by  Wills 's  beautiful  and  poetic 
English.  Both  of  them  are  good  enough,  strong  enough, 
and  pathetic  enough  to  bring  a  good  big  lump  into  the 
throat  of  any  true  man  or  woman  wherever  they  may 
be  played. 

When  the  Lyceum  season  was  nearing  its  end,  it 
was  announced  publicly  that  the  autumn  production 
would  be  The  Corsican  Brothers.  As  I  had  been  suc- 
cessful as  M.  Chateau  Renaud  in  the  previous  revival 
of  that  play  in  London  and  had  pleased  the  adapter  of 
it,  Dion  Boucicault,  who  was  not  easily  satisfied,  I 
naturally  hoped  that  I  should  again  be  cast  for  the  same 
part,  and  I  was  therefore  correspondingly  disappointed 
when  it  was  stated  later  that  William  Terriss  had  been 
engaged  for  it.     If  any  influence  was  at  work  against 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     113 

me,  it  strangely  miscarried,  and  my  luck  once  more  stood 
me  in  good  stead.  My  best  friend  could  not  have 
done  me  a  better  turn.  Terriss  had  been  playing  with 
Messrs.  Hare  and  Kendal  at  the  St.  James's,  and,  know- 
ing that  they  were  contemplating  a  play  by  W.  G.  Wills 
in  the  autumn,  I  walked  along  to  see  them,  and 
came  out  of  their  office  with  an  engagement  settled 
for  the  autumn.  And  this  is  where  my  good  luck 
came  in. 

The  Corsican  Brothers  contains  very  little  female 
interest.  The  drama  is  all  between  the  twin  brothers 
and  M.  Chateau  Renaud.  If  the  latter  does  not  loom 
up  a  great  factor  in  the  play,  deadly,  feared,  there  is 
not  much  play  left.  When  I  saw  the  production  at 
the  Lyceum  I  became  aware  that  in  the  discretion  of 
the  stage  manager  the  part  was  terribly  "  cabin 'd, 
cribb'd,  confin'd  "  compared  to  the  scope  allowed  me 
at  the  Princess's,  and  was  not  (in  this  production,  at 
least)  at  all  a  good  one.  And  the  duel  was  a  poor 
display  compared  with  what  we  had  given.  Neither 
Irving  nor  Terriss  appeared  to  be  the  equal  of  Clayton 
and  myself  as  swordsmen.  So,  all  things  considered, 
I  did  not  regret  being  out  of  it,  and  it  so  fell  out  that  I 
was  destined  to  make  one  of  the  most  signal  marks  of 
my  London  career  in  the  play  we  did  at  the  St.  James's 
(after  rehearsing  in  the  provinces)  on  October  9,  1880. 
This  play  was  called  William  and  Susan,  and  was  a  new 
version  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  classic  Black-Ey^d  Susan, 
prepared  by  W.  G.  Wills.  Kendal  played  William, 
Mrs.  Kendal  Susan,  John  Hare  (as  he  then  was)  the 
Admiral,  and  I  played  Captain  Crosstree.     A  perfect 


114    FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

*'  storm  in  a  tea-cup  "  was  raised  by  the  London  Press, 
led  by  Clement  Scott  of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  about  the 
desecration  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  classic.  What  absurd 
nonsense  it  was.  As  I  pointed  out  to  Scott  one  night  at 
supper,  no  one  had  ever  seen  Douglas  Jerrold's  drama 
in  our  time.  The  play  we  had  always  played  was  his 
in  name  only.  His,  with  one  entire  act  cut  out,  and 
hundreds  of  lines  of  "  gag  "  written  in.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  respectful  than  Wills 's  treatment  of  the 
subject.  He  wrote  a  beautiful  new  first  act  to  lead 
up  to  Jerrold's  story,  and  when  he  reached  the  latter 's 
matter  he  humoured  every  line,  as  well  as  every  time- 
honoured  gag.  In  my  humble  judgment  it  was  a  much 
better  play  for  the  time  in  which  it  was  played.  It 
had  a  very  considerable  success,  and  ran  for  several 
months.  John  Hare  stage-managed  it  most  carefully, 
and  played  the  Admiral  with  great  delicacy.  I  have 
seen  better  Williams  than  Kendal,  and  I  have  seen  him 
in  parts  I  preferred  him  in,  but  he  pleased  the  St.  James's 
audiences  greatly.  In  all  my  career  I  have  never  seen 
a  more  perfect  performance  of  sincere,  honest  woman- 
liness than  Mrs.  Kendal's  Susan.  She  was  magnificent. 
My  part  of  Crosstree  consisted  principally  of  one  big 
scene  with  her;  and,  while  I  shall  have  occasion  later 
in  these  notes  to  lay  my  tribute  at  the  feet  of  Mrs.  Kendal, 
I  cannot  pass  over  this  particular  performance  without 
thanking  her  with  all  the  warmth  at  my  command  for 
her  assistance  and  inspiration  in  making  a  success 
which  was  rather  exceptional,  and  advanced  me  a  good 
long  step  in  the  favour  of  the  London  public.  Good 
sketches  of  character  were  supplied  by  that  fine  actor 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     115 

Wenman,  Brandon  Thomas,  the  author  of  Charley^s 
Aunt,  etc.,  Mackmtosh,  and  Miss  Phillips,  and  nothing 
was  ever  better  played  at  the  St.  James's  in  this  or  any 
other  play  than  the  small  parts  entrusted  to  Albert 
Chevalier — now  so  famous  in  his  own  inimitable  way — 
and  then,  as  now,  an  artist  to  his  finger-tips. 


XIV 

In  the  April  of  1881  I  was  playing  a  series  of  matinees 
at  the  Imperial  with  Miss  Helen  Barry,  and  at  Drury 
Lane  every  evening  with  John  McCullough.  During 
Miss  Barry's  season  we  produced  London  Assurance, 
Arkwrighfs  Wife,  and  Led  Astray.  It  was  only  a 
moderately  successful  venture,  and  was,  perhaps, 
principally  notable  for  the  fact  that  E.  S.  Willard  made 
his  first  appearance  in  London  during  these  performances. 
He  was  playing  at  Brighton  at  the  time,  and  made  the 
journey  to  and  fro  each  day.  His  different  impersona- 
tions were  noteworthy  for  the  care  and  thought  which 
afterwards  brought  him  to  the  front  and  made  him  so 
sound  a  favourite  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  Miss 
Helen  Barry  was  "  a  monstrous  fine  woman,"  and  a  kind- 
hearted  creature,  who  had  taken  to  the  stage  too  late 
in  life  to  achieve  more  than  passing  notice.  She  died 
in  New  York  a  few  years  after.  John  McCullough,  the 
American  tragedian,  was  everybody's  favourite.  He  was 
not,  strictly  speaking,  a  great  actor,  being,  in  truth,  an 
imitator  of  his  great  model,  Edwin  Forrest,  but  he  had 
an  extraordinary  amount  of  magnetism  and  a  singularly 
fine  appearance  for  Roman  parts.  With  a  good  figure, 
a  magnificent  torso,  and  a  picturesque  head  beautifully 
poised  on  his  shoulders,  he  looked  the  absolute  embodi- 
ment of  the  part  of  Virginius,  in  which  he  opened  in 

116 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     117 

England.  With  all  these  advantages,  supplemented  by 
a  good,  deep,  and  resonant  voice,  he  created  a  most 
favourable  impression.  A  lady  friend  of  mine  who  saw 
the  play  said  :  "  I  wished  he  was  my  father,"  and  that 
was  a  fair  summing  up  of  what  many  people  thought. 
Our  business  was  quite  good.  When  he  changed  the 
bill  to  Othello,  his  success  was  not  nearly  so  pronounced. 
As  a  man,  he  was  tremendously  popular — kindly,  genial, 
full  of  fun,  anecdote,  and  humour,  but  an  awful  "  night- 
owl."  He  would  never  go  to  bed  so  long  as  any 
one  would  sit  up  with  him.  Thus,  I  fear,  he  "  burnt 
the  candle  at  both  ends,"  and  in  1884  I  met  him  in 
New  York,  his  fine  physique  wasted  to  a  shadow  and 
his  poor  brain  showing  signs  of  that  dread  ailment  in 
which  he  passed  away  in  1885,  to  the  inexpressible 
grief  of  as  many  friends  as  a  man  ever  had.  John  had 
been  "  juvenile  man  "  with  Edwin  Forrest,  and  he  used 
to  tell  some  splendid  stories  of  that,  undoubtedly,  great 
actor.     I  recall  one  of  them  as  I  write. 

Forrest  was  playing  Virginius,  with  a  bad  attack  of 
gout  in  both  hands  and  feet,  and  in  the  scene  in  Act  I., 
when  Virginius  gives  Virginia  to  Icilius  (played  by 
McCullough),  he  said,  in  his  grand  tone  and  manner, 
offering  his  hand — 

ViRG. :  "  Thou  seest  that  hand?     It  is  a  Roman's,  boy. 

Knew  it  the  lurking-place  of  treason,  though 
It  were  a  brother's  heart,  'twould  drag  the  caitiff 
Forth.     Barest  thou  take  that  hand?  " 

IciL.  :  "  I  dare,  Virginius." 

ViRG.  :  "  Then  take  it."     (And  then  in  muttered  tone  :) 
"  Don't  touch,  for  heaven's  sake  !  " 


118    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

John  McCullough  made  a  joke  one  night  while  in 
England  at  the  club  that  "  set  the  table  in  a  roar." 
1881  was  the  year  in  which  an  American  horse,  Iroquois, 
won  the  Derby,  named  of  course,  after  the  powerful 
tribe  of  North  American  Indians.  On  the  occasion  of 
which  I  speak  we  were  all  chaffing,  and  the  conversation 
turned  on  the  contrasted  pronunciation  of  the  English 
language  in  England  and  America.  I  forgot  what  led 
up  to  it,  but  Johnny  Toole  remarked  :  "  Why,  hang  it, 
you  people  in  America  have  not  got  a  language."  John 
replied  in  a  flash  :  "  Haven't  we,  by  Jove?  What  about 
Iroquois?  "  He  and  I  became  great  "  pals,"  and  when 
he  was  returning  to  America  he  made  me  a  pleasant  offer 
to  accompany  him,  but  I  did  not  accept  for  the  reason 
that  another  old  friend,  Fred  B.  Warde,  was  with  him, 
and  I  did  not  see  that  there  would  be  much  opening  for 
two  of  us  in  supporting  a  male  "  star."  In  the  perform- 
ance of  Virginius  at  Drury  Lane,  I  played  Appius 
Claudius;  John  Ryder,  Dentatus;  J.  R.  Gibson,  Numi- 
torius ;  Gus  Harris  (the  manager  of  the  theatre),  Icilius ; 
and  Lydia  Cowell  (Mrs.  James  Mortimer),  Virginia. 
Mortimer  was  editor  of  the  London  Figaro.  Gus  Harris 
(I  knew  all  of  his  family  when  he  was  a  boy)  afterwards 
became  Sheriff  of  the  City  of  London,  and  eventually 
Sir  Augustus  Harris.  As  Icilius  he  wore  a  toga  made  of 
light  blue  soft  silk,  and  I  am  afraid  that,  whatever  his 
great  capacities  were,  his  dearest  friend  could  not  have 
said  they  included  the  performance  of  Roman  parts. 
John  Ryder,  who  played  Dentatus,  was  quite  a  character. 
"  Honest  John "  he  was  sometimes  called,  and  not 
without  reason.  He  was  certainly  bluff  and  outspoken 
to  a  fault,  but  as  "  straight  as  a  gun-barrel,"  and  quite 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     119 

fearless  when  he  had  anything  to  say.  He  was  an  actor 
of  the  Macready  school,  and  unwilling  to  concede  that 
any  one  could  compare  with  "  Mac,"  as  he  called  him. 
He  was  an  admirable  stage  instructor,  and  was  respon- 
sible for  the  success  of  Adelaide  Neilson,  Miss  Wallis, 
Margaret  Leighton,  and  many  others,  as  well  as  a  most 
excellent  actor,  more  especially  of  strong  rugged  parts, 
full  of  humanity,  such  as  Hubert  {King  John),  Williams 
{Henry  V.),  Dentatus,  John  Ironbrace  {Used  Up),  etc., 
etc.  A  number  of  splendid  stories  abounded  of  him  in 
his  time,  but,  unfortunately,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
expressing  himself  so  very  forcibly  that  they  are  not  all 
reproducible  in  cold  print.  On  the  occasion  of  the  first 
appearance  of  his  pupil,  Miss  Margaret  Leighton,  who 
made  a  very  great  success  as  Julia  in  The  Hunchback, 
amidst  an  avalanche  of  flowers  and  congratulations,  at 
the  end  of  the  performance  he  led  her  by  the  hand  to  the 
centre  of  the  stage  and  pointing  his  dexter  finger  at  the 
audience  said  in  emphatic  tone  :  "  Look  here  !  when  I 
am  dead,  people  may  say  I  couldn't  act,  but,  by  Heavens  ! 
will  anybody  say  I  couldn't  teach?"  He  was  most 
amusing  one  night  in  John  McCullough's  dressing-room. 
He  was  then  sixty-nine  years  old  and  talked  of  retiring 
the  next  year,  when  he  would  be  seventy.  His  mother 
was  still  alive,  aged  ninety-one.  He  told  of  her  complaint 
that  he  did  not  go  often  enough  to  see  her,  and  his  reply 
was  this  :  "  I  said  to  her,  '  Look  here,  mother,  this  be 
hanged  (  ?).  I'm  acting  every  night  and  I  give  three  or 
four  lessons  a  day,  and  when  Sunday  comes  I'm  deuced(  ?) 
glad  of  the  rest.  Upon  my  soul,  you  look  upon  me  as  a 
blessed  (  ?)  kid  ! '  "  Isn't  that  human  ?  Bluff  old  John 
Ryder  as  we  knew  him  was  still  the  "  kid  "  (the  baby)  to 


120    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

some  one  who  had  nursed  and  loved  him  as  such.  But 
there  was  great  humanity  in  all  he  did.  I  was  told  a 
very  pretty  story  of  the  marriage  of  his  only  daughter  (he 
had  been  a  widower  for  years).  At  the  wedding  break- 
fast in  the  snug  little  home  in  Brixton,  in  the  course  of 
the  function,  his  health  was  proposed  and  he  rose  to 
respond.  Putting  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
bridegroom,  he  quoted,  inimitably,  the  speech  from 
Virginius — 

"  Didst  thou  but  know,  young  man, 
How  fondly  I  have  watched  her  since  the  day 
Her  mother  died,  and  left  me  to  a  charge 
Of  double  duty  bound — how  she  hath  been 
My  ponder'd  thought  by  day,  my  dream  by  night. 
My  prayer,  my  vow,  my  offering,  my  praise, 
My  sweet  companion,  pupil,  tutor,  child  ! — 
Thou  wouldst  not  wonder  that  my  drowning  eye 
And  choking  utterance  upbraid  the  tongue 
That  tells  thee  she  is  thine  !  .  .  ." 

This  may  sound  theatrical  to  some,  but  my  informant, 
who  was  present,  told  me  it  was  most  beautifully  done, 
with  the  utmost  feeling,  and  every  one  present  was 
greatly  affected. 

John  Ryder  was  a  good  specimen  of  an  Englishman, 
tall,  straight,  and  with  a  fine  physique  generally.  In 
face  he  greatly  resembled  the  Abbe  Liszt,  except  that  his 
features  were  stronger  and  without  the  long  hair. 
Writing  of  the  Abbe  Liszt,  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  him  play,  in  private,  under  very  interesting  cir- 
cumstances. During  a  visit  of  his  to  London  I  was 
calling  one  Sunday  afternoon  on  an  old  and  treasured 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     121 

friend — W.  Beatty-Kingston,  of  the  Daily  Telegraph — 
and  the  maestro  was  among  his  guests  that  day.  Beatty- 
Kingston  was  himself  one  of  the  finest  amateur  pianists 
in  England  and  his  daughter  was  only  a  little  less  pro- 
ficient. After  several  duets  by  father  and  daughter 
on  two  grand  pianos  Miss  Kingston  played  over  a  pretty 
ballad  of  her  own  composition.  Liszt  appeared  inter- 
ested, and  asked  her  to  repeat  it.  She  did  so,  and  then 
the  maestro  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and,  with  his  eyes 
half  closed  and  his  mind  apparently  well  over  the  frontier 
of  dreamland,  improvised  variations  on  the  melody  for 
at  least  half  an  hour.  It  was  most  delightful  and  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  treat. 

Every  summer  about  this  time  a  little  party  of  us 
used  to  have  one  delightful  holiday  in  rowing  down  the 
Thames  from  Oxford  to  Teddington.  The  trip  was 
organised  by  Tom  Thorne,  then  co-lessee  of  the  Vaude- 
ville with  David  James.  He,  too,  saw  to  the  provisions 
and  the  canteen,  and  everything  was  of  the  best ;  each 
of  us  paying  our  share  of  the  actual  cost.  We  had  two 
skiffs,  and  a  boy  to  attend  to  our  wants  and  do  the  neces- 
sary work.  Our  party  usually  comprised  Henry  Neville, 
James  Fernandez,  Charles  Warner,  Clement  Scott,  Tom 
Thorne,  myself,  and  one  or  two  others.  What  a  glorious 
time  we  had,  and  what  over-grown  schoolboys  we 
became  for  the  nonce  !  We  started  from  Oxford  on 
Sunday  morning,  and  even  those  who  had  London 
engagements  could  fulfil  them  each  night  and  do  every 
mile  of  the  journey  by  a  careful  study  of  the  railway 
time-tables.  Fernandez  would  make  our  sides  ache  with 
his  wonderfully  told  stories  of  his  earlier  days  on  the 
stage.    Tom  Thorne  wanted  to  race  every  boat  that 


122    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

came  alongside ;  Charles  Warner  had  splendid  spirits,  in 
which  quality  the  writer  was  not  deficient,  and  Clement 
Scott  his  temperamental  sentiment  which  friendship 
always  brought  to  the  surface  so  readily.  We  lunched 
under  the  willows  at  Newnham,  dined  in  the  hayfield 
at  Clifton  Hampton,  and  pursued  our  way  by  easy  stages 
past  lovely  Mapledurham,  the  regatta  course  at  Henley 
and  Medmenham  Abbey,  Danesfield,  and  Harleyford, 
past  the  grand  Quarry  Woods  at  Marlow,  and  the 
glorious  sylvan  beauties  of  Cliveden,  and  so  on  until  we 
usually  pulled  up  about  Friday  at  a  friend's  lawn  at 
Teddington,  where  the  hospitality  of  a  kind  host  and 
hostess  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale)  awaited  us.  Oh,  youth, 
friendship,  and  nature  !  what  a  combination  you  made, 
and  how  glorious  it  all  seemed  in  those  old,  bright  days  ! 
Alas  !  three  of  those  named  have  "  crossed  the  bar,"  one 
has  fallen  on  evil  times.  Fernandez  and  I  never  speak 
of  the  joy  of  those  days  without  something  like  a  glow 
of  the  old  happy  enthusiasm,  not,  however,  without  a 
large  admixture  of  sad  and  kindly  thoughts  for  those 
dear  old  companions  who  have  drifted  away  out  of  our 
sight.  • 


XV 

In  the  autumn  of  1881  I  went  to  New  York  under 

engagement  to  McKee  Rankin,     Rankin  had  come  to 

London  in  April  1880  with  what,  I  think,  was  the  very 

best  of  all  the  so-called  Western  dramas,  The  Danites, 

by  Joaquin  Miller,  "  the  poet  of  the  Sierras,"  as  he  was 

called.     Coming  at  that  season  of  the  year,  he  was  able 

to  collect  what  is  now  called  an  "  all  star-cast,"  who  were 

anxious  to  visit  London  and  willing  to  accept  terms 

accordingly.     Many  of  the  company  were  leading  artists 

I  had  met  during  my  visits  to  America,  whose  names  will 

be  found  in  these  notes,  among  then  W.  E.  Sheridan, 

Natt  Lingham^   Lindsay  Harris,   and  dear,   good  Ned 

Holland,  who  died  within  two  months  of  my  writing 

these  lines.     The  play  was  produced  at  Sadler's  Wells 

theatre,  then  under  the  management  of  Mrs.  Bateman, 

and  made  such   a   favourable   impression   that   it   was 

transferred  to  the  Globe,  where  it  ran  along  merrily 

for  some  months.     During  his  time  in  London,  Rankin 

saw,  and  was  struck  with,  William  and  Susan  at  the  St. 

James's,  and  arranged  to  produce  the  play  in  New  York. 

He  engaged  me  for  my  original  part,  and  to  stage-manage 

the  play  on  the  St.  James's  lines.     One  condition  of  the 

London   production   was   completely   reversed   in   New 

York.     Rankin    was    an    excellent    William,    but   Mrs. 

Rankin  could  not  compare  with  Mrs.  Kendal  as  Susan; 

123 


124    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

but  the  fates  were  dead  against  us  as  it  proved.  All  of 
us  of  a  certain  age  will  remember  the  thrill  of  horror  that 
ran  through  the  nation  when  news  came  that  President 
Garfield  had  been  shot  by  a  cowardly  assassin  on  that 
fateful  day,  July  2,  1881.  A  good  man,  worthily  risen 
from  a  log  cabin,  brave,  honourable,  and  the  chosen  ruler 
of  a  great  people,  bound  to  us  by  every  tie  of  kinship  and 
interest,  had  been  laid  low  by  the  hand  of  a  degenerate 
who  was,  as  Shakespeare  says  of  Barnardine  in  Measure 
for  Measure t  "  Unfit  to  live  or  die."  For  two  months,  in 
spirit,  we  watched  by  the  sufferer's  bedside  with  fear 
and  hope  alternating  in  our  hearts  as  the  daily  bulletins 
were  announced.  When  he  was  removed  to  Elberon,  by 
the  sea,  on  September  6,  hope  was  in  the  ascendant ;  on 
the  15th,  hope  gave  way  to  despair.  Blood-poisoning 
had  set  in.  On  the  19th,  he  breathed  his  last,  to  the 
grief  of  the  whole  civilised  world,  and  on  the  same 
19th  we  produced  in  New  York  City,  at  the  14th 
Street  Theatre,  William  and  Susan.  We  heard  the  news 
as  we  finished  the  performance;  and  the  next  day  the 
city  was  draped  with  black  in  every  corner;  the  whole 
nation  was  beside  itself  with  grief,  and  business  was 
practically  dead  for  days.  In  those  days  every  produc- 
tion in  America  depended  greatly  on  the  "  send-off," 
as  they  call  it,  and  I  don't  think  it  is  much  changed  to- 
day. Nothing  could  stand  up  against  such  a  "  facer," 
and  William  and  Susan  was  as  "  dead  as  Queen  Anne." 
When  the  public  recovered  its  wonted  spirit  we  did 
another  new  play,  by  Joaquin  Miller,  called  49,  a  story 
of  the  first  gold  rush  to  California,  which  was  in  that 
year.  It  was  in  a  terribly  chaotic  state  when  the  manu- 
script reached  us,  and  we  had  to  use  all  our  wits  and 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     125 

experience  to  get  it  into  acting  shape.     Some  time  after, 
during  some  legal  action  anent  the  play,  I  believe  Rankin 
testified  that  the  second  act  was  entirely  constructed 
by  myself.     From  recollection  I  don't  think  I  should 
have  claimed  so  much  as  that ;  but  I  did  a  good  deal  to 
it  and  all  I  could.     With  William  and  Susan  dead,  much 
of  my  value  to  Rankin  was  gone.     Obviously  I  could  not 
be  expected  to  rival  a  fine  actor  like  W.  E.  Sheridan  in 
a  purely  American  part  that  fitted  him  superbly  in  The 
Danites,  and  in  a  thousand  little  unpleasant  ways  I  was 
made  to  feel  it,  so  that  after  about  eight  weeks,  having 
received  an  offer  from  Joseph  Brooks  to  join  him  for 
a  tour  of  the  then  popular  Drury  Lane  drama,  The  World, 
I  came  to  an  amicable  and  equitable  arrangement  with 
Rankin   in   Chicago,   and   left  there   with  Brooks  one 
Saturday  after   a  matinSe   for   New   Orleans,   where   I 
opened  on  Monday.     With  The  World  I  continued  the 
whole  of  the  season  (a  quite  pleasant  engagement),  and 
with  it  I  made  my  first  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast  and 
sampled     "  the    glorious    climate    of    California."      I 
opened  in  San  Francisco  in  January  1882.     I  should 
like  to  say  here,  that,  wonderful  and  interesting  as  are 
many  of  the  cities  of  the  Eastern  States,  in  their  great 
development   of   business   facilities   and   luxuries,    the 
scenes  and  charms  of  the  United  States  that  "  stand 
out  "  in  the  mind  of  any  travelling  European  do  not 
begin  until  he  gets  west  of  the  Mississippi  River.    Every- 
thing in  the  great  far  West  is  so  different  to  anything 
he  has  ever  seen,  and  it  is  all  so  stupendous,  so  pictur- 
esque, and,  in  many  cases,  so  wonderful  that  the  mind  is  in 
a  state  of  constant  expansion  and  the  brain  perpetually 
exercised  in  "  taking  it  all  in."     The  Humboldt  River, 


126    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

which  you  meet  in  the  morning  on  the  Union  Pacific, 
is  a  httle  ditch,  and  after  travelhng  beside  it  all  day,  you 
see  it  develop  into  a  very  large  body  of  water,  which 
discharges  into  Lake  Humboldt,  hundreds  of  miles  from 
any  coast,  and  disappears  altogether.  Where  does  it 
go  to?  The  immense  alkali  plains,  with  their  herds  of 
antelope,  etc.,  and  the  journey  through  the  snowsheds 
of  the  great  Rockies  and  Sierras,  until  you  descend  into 
the  Sacramento  Valley  of  the  Pacific  slope,  with  its 
birds  of  brilliant  plumage,  but  little  or  no  song;  its 
flowers  of  radiant  colourings,  but  little  or  no  scent,  all 
go  to  make  up  an  experience  unique  and  full  of  interest 
as  you  meet  it  for  the  first  time.  And  once  arrived  in 
San  Francisco  you  seem  to  take  on  a  new  existence.  The 
climate,  to  a  newcomer,  is  like  a  joyous  tonic.  I  played 
there  a  month  and  enjoyed  every  minute  of  it.  I  saw 
all  there  was  to  be  seen — the  park  and  the  great  seal 
rocks;  had  trips  through  Chinatown,  with  its  opium 
dens,  its  cafes,  its  joss  houses,  and  its  theatres,  etc. 
Was  made  a  member  of  the  well-known  Bohemian  Club, 
and  met  a  lot  of  most  hospitable  friends — Clay  Green, 
Frank  Unger,  Harry  Jocelyn,  Eugene  Dewey,  and  a 
namesake.  Col.  Barnes,  a  very  prominent  lawyer  of  the 
city,  a  man  of  great  intellect  and  a  firm  friend.  Saw 
Jennie  Lee  and  her  husband,  J.  P.  Burnett,  off  to  Aus- 
tralia, and,  wonderful  to  relate,  on  the  same  steamer  met 
John  Hollingshead's  niece,  Maud  Hobson,  all  that  dis- 
tance away  from  home,  quite  unexpectedly,  after  having 
been  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  London,  with  her  for  months. 
She  was  on  the  way  to  Honolulu  with  her  husband, 
Captain  Hailey,  late  of  the  Hussars,  who  had  an  appoint- 
ment there. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     127 

Two  things  struck  me  forcibly  about  San  Francisco 
when  I  first  visited  it.  The  first  was  the  extraordinary 
cosmopoHtan  character  of  its  population.  All  the  nations 
were  represented,  and  all  seemed  to  have  their  own  little 
colony  and  almost  their  own  districts  wherein  they  lived. 
A  reason  for  this  was  probably  to  be  found  in  the  fact 
that  the  Pacific  Coast  had  been  the  end  of  the  earth  to  a 
large  body  of  the  world's  wanderers.  To  use  a  term  in 
vogue  nowadays,  it  was  a  kind  of  "  dumping  ground  " 
for  many  hundreds  who  had  come  there  by  land  or  sea, 
and  either  could  not  from  circumstances  get  any  further, 
or  were  disinclined  to ;  and  there  they  had  settled  and 
formed  new  ties  and  started  new  lives,  but  always 
apparently  in  their  own  coteries  and  among  their  own 
compatriots.  The  other  impression  was  the  perfectly 
admirable  character  of  some  of  the  moderate-priced 
restaurants.  There  were  four  or  five  of  these  that  I 
could  name  where  a  really  excellent  meal  could  be  had 
for  50  cents  (about  2s.  of  English  money),  and  for  $1 
(45.)  the  menu  served  was  positively  luxurious.  I  am 
writing  of  the  days  before  the  great  earthquake,  which 
may  easily  have  considerably  changed  many  of  the 
conditions. 

The  trip  back  from  California,  playing  by  the  way,  was 
brim  full  of  interest  to  me,  and  two  or  three  references 
will  I  hope  also  interest  my  readers.  How  the  staff 
managed  to  get  the  play  The  World  on  to  the  stage  in 
such  places  as  some  of  the  one-night  stands  I  shall  never 
know.  They  did,  and  there's  the  wonder  !  The  first 
place  we  stopped  at  was  San  Jose,  where  I  was  much 
amused  by  a  well-intentioned  friend,  who  drove  me  out 
some  miles  to  an  old  mission  house,  a  dilapidated  building 


128  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

looking  like  an  old  malt  house  in  England,  and,  pulling 
up  opposite  thereto,  said,  with  great  emphasis  :  "  There, 
sir,  one  hundred  years  old  !  "  I  did  not  at  first  realise 
what  he  was  driving  at,  and  he  repeated  it  even  more 
emphatically.  I  wish  I  could  reproduce  his  looks,  though 
not  his  language,  when  I  gathered  his  meaning,  and 
promised  him  that  when  I  met  him  in  England  I  would 
show  him  places  one  thousand  years  old. 

Sacramento,  Stockton,  with  its  big  State  asylum,  and 
Reno  presented  no  special  features,  but  from  the  latter 
we  branched  off  to  Carson  City,  where  one  of  the  United 
States  mints  was  situated,  and  Virginia  City,  famous  for 
the  great  mining  boom  of  the  fifties,  where  the  Com- 
stock  lode  was  discovered  running  through  the  moun- 
tains, and  where  the  celebrated  Californian  millionaires, 
J.  Mackay,  O'Brien,  Fair,  and  others  made  their  enor- 
mous fortunes.  The  true  stories  of  their  operations  have 
scarcely  a  parallel  in  the  whole  history  of  mining.  When 
I  was  there  the  production  of  the  mines  had  practically 
"  given  out,"  and  the  town  was  well-nigh  deserted.  The 
streets,  chiefly  of  wooden-frame  houses,  had  been  taken 
possession  of  by  the  Indians,  and  I  remember  a  curious 
feeling  coming  over  me  as  I  walked  to  the  theatre,  where 
the  orchestra,  after  parading  the  streets,  was  playing  a 
selection  of  music  on  the  front  verandah,  and  every 
doorstep  and  window  sill  in  sight  was  occupied  by 
"  noble  red  men  "  and  their  families  as  interested  lis- 
teners, of  course,  without  the  means  or  inclination  to 
go  inside.  Verily,  I  felt  that  I  had  touched  a  lower  level 
in  my  career  than  I  had  looked  forward  to.  I  went  down 
the  Savage  mine,  which  had  been  one  of  the  most  pro- 
ductive, with  the  manager,  whom  I  had  met  in  San 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     129 

Francisco,  and  was  shown  the  Httle  wooden  house  in 
which  Mrs.  John  Mackay  Uved  and  toiled  with  her 
husband  in  those  early  days,  and  I  ruminated  on  the 
wonderful  turns  of  the  wheel  of  fortune  as  I  contrasted 
it  with  the  lordly  dwelling  she  occupied,  subsequently, 
in  Carlton  House  Terrace,  London.  I  remember  reading 
in  the  newspapers  of  her  burning  a  portrait  by  Meissonier 
that  failed  to  please  her. 

From  there  back  to  Reno  and  on  to  Ogden,  where 
again  we  left  the  main  line  to  call  at  Salt  Lake  City, 
and  it  was  with  no  small  amount  of  curiosity  that  I 
found  myself  in  the  centre  of  Mormonism.  It  is  not 
my  province  to  say  a  word  about  this  faith  or  its  followers, 
but  the  city  as  I  saw  it  showed  on  every  hand  evidences 
of  the  master  mind  of  a  born  leader  of  men.  Although 
Joseph  Smith  was  credited  with  the  foundation  of  this 
powerful  organisation,  beyond  all  question  that  master 
mind  was  Brigham  Young.  First,  the  selection  of  this 
particular  valley  for  occupation  after  a  pilgrimage  of  a 
thousand  miles  was  a  stroke  of  genius,  and  the  indomi- 
table will  of  the  "  Prophet  "  and  the  perseverance  of  his 
disciples  had  turned  its  fertility  to  such  account  that 
it  was  a  veritable  garden  in  the  desert.  Then  the 
utilisation  of  the  adjacent  perpetually  snow-covered 
mountains  was  a  wonderful  instance  of  foresight.  The 
city  was  built  on  the  slope  of  the  foot-hills  of  these,  and 
when  the  snow  melted  in  summer  the  water  was  caught 
and  stored  as  it  ran  down  the  hillsides  in  a  huge  dyke, 
and  by  a  system  of  small  sluices  conducted  down  the 
sides  of  the  streets  under  the  shade  of  countless  trees, 
giving  a  sense  of  coolness  on  the  hottest  day.  It  was 
more  than  90  in  the  shade  when  I  was  there.     And  the 

K 


130  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

same  mind  which  could  harness  the  forces  of  nature  was 
able  to  make  the  most  of  the  resources  of  science  and  art. 
When  Brigham  Young  wanted  to  do  anything  in  the  pub- 
lic interest,  he  was  content  to  go  to  the  highest  authority 
on  the  subject,  and  follow  that  authority  blindly.  He 
built  a  new  Tabernacle,  which  was  capable  of  seating  an 
immense  concourse  of  people  with  one  gallery  only,  and 
which,  through  its  exit  arrangements,  could  be  emptied 
in  a  minute  and  a  half.  I  was  shown  over  this  building 
by  a  man  who  to  my  surprise  addressed  me  as  Mr. 
Barnes  at  our  first  meeting.  He  had  been  in  the  orches- 
tra at  Drury  Lane  theatre  when  I  was  there  ten  years 
before.  In  this  immense  building,  which,  from  the  out- 
side looked  like  a  long  beehive,  my  guide  stood  at  one  end 
by  the  organ,  and  I  went  to  the  extreme  other  end.  In 
the  distance  he  looked  positively  small.  Such  were  the 
acoustics  that  he  spoke,  whispered,  rubbed  his  coat- 
sleeve  with  his  hand,  and  dropped  a  pin  into  his  hat  by 
turns,  and  I  heard  all  as  distinctly  as  if  I  stood  at  his 
side.  This  may  sound  like  an  exaggeration,  but  any  one 
who  has  been  there  will  know  it  is  a  positive  fact.  And 
why  was  it?  Because  the  building  was  constructed  on 
the  rigid  principles  of  acoustics  of  the  greatest  authority. 
Sir  Christopher  Wren.  A  domed  roof  with  no  beams  and 
a  cellared  floor.  Other  public  buildings  were  equally 
remarkable,  but  I  have  said  enough  to  prove  the  man 
who  planned  it  all  had  an  intellect  quite  out  of  the 
ordinary.  Brigham  Young  was  dead  when  I  was  there. 
His  successor,  Mr.  Taylor,  visited  the  theatre  one  night 
with  some  of  his  wives,  and  they  seemed  interested  and 
quite  a  happy,  though  not  particularly  distinguished, 
family.     Of  course,  I  am  writing  of  the  time  before  the 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      131 

United  States  Government  passed  stringent  laws  against 
polygamy  and  other  Mormon  customs  (indeed  the  law 
was  passed  through  the  Senate  the  very  week  I  was 
there).  I  have  not  been  in  Utah  since,  and  cannot, 
therefore,  speak  of  any  change  it  may  have  brought 
about.  I  only  remember  that  I  left  Salt  Lake  City  much 
impressed  with  the  thrift  of  the  people  and  the  evidences 
of  the  strong  worldly  wisdom  and  common-sense  of  the 
departed  Brigham  Young. 


XVI 

Back  on  to  the  main  line  at  Ogden  and  by  way  of 
Laramie  City  to  Cheyenne,  where  a  minor  surprise 
awaited  me.  On^the  way  to  the  theatre  for  the  evening 
performance  notes  of  a  post-horn  greeted  my  ears,  and 
down  the  main  street  dashed  a  perfectly  appointed 
four-in-hand  drag,  post-boy  and  all.  A  party  of  rich 
New  Yorkers,  including  Charles  Oelrichs  (brother  of 
Herman,  previously  mentioned),  who  had  a  large  ranch 
some  miles  out  on  the  prairies,  had  driven  in  to  see  the 
play.  That  night  a  ludicrous  incident  occurred  which 
caused  them  and  the  writer  no  little  amusement.  The 
sensation  scene  at  the  end  of  the  third  act  of  The  World 
was  three  starving  creatures  on  a  raft  in  the  open  sea 
signalling  to  a  vessel  which  comes  into  sight  on  the 
horizon.  Instead  of  waiting  to  descend  at  the  psycho- 
logical moment  as  a  properly  constructed  and  trained 
curtain  should,  the  Cheyenne  curtain  broke  from  its 
moorings  and  dropped  to  the  stage,  bodily,  some  moments 
before  the  end  of  the  act,  leaving  us  with  nothing  to  do 
but  swim  (or  walk)  through  the  ocean  in  full  view  of  the 
audience.  It  was  ludicrous,  and  there  was  positively 
no  saving  of  the  situation ;  so  it  flashed  across  my  mind 
that  the  very  best  thing  to  do  was  to  turn  it  into  a 
thoroughly  good  laugh  and  get  out  of  the  dilemma  that 

way.    I  shouted  to  my  fellow- voyagers,  "  There's  nothing 

132 


I 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE      133 

left  but  to  swim  for  it,  boys,  and  Heaven  give  us  strength 
to  reach  the  prompt  entrance."  And  we  plunged  into 
the  seething  ( ?)  billows,  and  walked  to  the  "  wings." 
The  audience  shouted  with  laughter,  and  we  had  a  good 
joke  over  it  at  the  club  that  night  at  supper ;  and  so  all 
ended  happily. 

From  Cheyenne  to  Denver;  and  here,  too,  I  had  two 
little  surprises.  As  is  well  known  the  high  altitude  of 
Denver  makes  it  particularly  beneficial  in  all  cases  of 
lung  trouble.  The  air  is  so  light  and  curative  in  its 
effect !  The  healthy  man  finds,  at  first,  a  difficulty  in 
breathing  if  climbing  a  hill  or  going  up  stairs.  My 
first  surprise  was  to  meet,  quite  unexpectedly.  Miss 
Angelina  Claude,  a  charming  little  singing  comedienne, 
who  had  been  in  the  old  Strand  when  I  was  there  in 
1873,  walking  with  her  husband,  Richard  Kavanagh,  of 
Dublin,  one  of  the  best  fellows  who  ever  lived.  "  Dick  " 
(as  all  his  friends  called  him)  had  gone  out  there,  prac- 
tically, to  die  of  consumption,  but  hoping  a  stay  there 
might  prolong  his  life  a  few  months,  and  his  good  loving 
little  wife  sadly  expected  to  see  the  last  of  him  there.  He 
stayed  a  little  over  a  year  and  came  back  so  nearly 
cured — if  not  quite— that  I  believe  he  lived  for  twelve 
or  fourteen  years  afterwards;  nor  do  I  remember  that 
the  old  ailment  had  anything  to  do  with  the  dear  fellow's 
end  when  it  came.  Strolling  with  this  happy  Darby  and 
Joan  we  turned  a  corner  and  there  was  my  second 
surprise — a  good-sized  ten-roomed  house  coming  down 
the  middle  of  the  street  on  rollers,  being  moved  from 
one  part  of  the  city  to  another,  a  distance  of  more  than 
a  mile. 

Our  tour  ended  in  Denver,  and  I  came  through  to  New 


134    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

York  and  straight  home  to  London  again  by  the  s.s. 
Britannic,  then  under  the  command  of  the  popular 
Captain  Perry,  saihng  on  April  1  and  arriving  April  10. 
After  so  much  travelling  I  intended  taking  a  good  rest, 
but  it  was  not  to  be.  Almost  immediately  on  my 
arrival  Mr.  J.  Comyns  Carr  hunted  me  up  with  an  offer 
to  play  in  his  version  of  Thomas  Hardy's  Far  from  the 
Madding  Crowd  ;  so  that  I  "  got  into  harness  "  at  once 
and  opened  in  that  play  at  the  Globe  on  April  29,  1882. 
There  was  very  considerable  excitement  about  the 
production  of  this  play,  and  something  like  a  fierce 
controversy  raged  round  its  presentation.  Pinero  had 
produced  some  time  previously,  at  the  St.  James's,  a 
play  called  The  Squire.  That  it  was  founded  on  Hardy's 
book  it  was  quite  idle  to  deny.  How  it  came  about 
it  is  not  my  province  to  discuss.  Everybody  one  met 
advanced  a  different  explanation  at  the  time.  Whatever 
the  true  story  was,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  The 
Squire,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Wenman,  and  Mac- 
kintosh in  a  great  character  study  of  a  country  yokel 
called  Gunnion,  had  "  taken  the  wind  out  of  the  sails  " 
of  Carr's  version  of  the  story.  Not  that  the  latter  was 
not  a  good  play  !  It  was,  distinctly.  I  played  in  The 
Squire  afterwards  with  the  Kendals,  and  I  think  a  just 
summing  up  of  their  respective  merits  would  be  that, 
whereas  Pinero' s  play  was  the  neatest  and  best  piece  of 
dramatic  workmanship,  Carr's  version  retained  more  of 
the  vigour  and  local  colour  of  the  great  original.  A  lot 
was  made  of  Hardy's  bucolics  in  Carr's  play,  and  those 
were  a  set  of  characters  Hardy  delighted  in  and  on 
which  he  spread  himself  with  evident  relish.  It  is 
rather  an  odd  small  coincidence  that  I  should  be  writing 


Photo] 


J.    H.    BARNES    AS    SERJEANT    TRDV 

("Far  from  tlie  Madding  C'roMd") 


[•/.  K.  Mayall 


[To  face  pane  VH 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     135 

of  his  work  a  long  way  from  home  within  forty-eight 
hours  of  reading  in  the  newspapers  that  he  has  been 
justly  awarded  the  "  Nobel  "  prize  for  literature.  In 
Far  from  the  Madding  Crowd  Mrs.  Bernard  Beere  played 
Bathsheba,  Charles  Kelly  was  the  Gabriel  Oak,  and  I 
played  Sergeant  Troy,  and  all  the  smaller  parts  were 
well  cast.  Kelly  stage-managed  the  play.  What  a 
popular  chap  he  was,  and  what  an  admirable  actor  ! 
He  left  a  troop  of  sorrowing  friends  when  he  was  called 
away.  The  play  was  most  favourably  noticed  by  the 
Press,  as  were  the  principal  performers,  but  was  not  a 
great  success  and  only  ran  a  few  weeks. 

It  fell  out  that  the  July  of  1882  was  to  be  a  very 
eventful  time  in  my  career.  On  the  third  of  that  month 
I  opened  at  Drury  Lane  as  Macduff  to  the  Macbeth  of 
my  old  friend,  William  Rignold,  and  the  Lady  Macbeth 
of  that  incomparable  artist,  Mme.  Ristori.  I  say  "  in- 
comparable "  because  not  only  was  she  the  greatest 
actress  I  have  ever  played  with  or  seen,  but  she  was  at 
the  same  time  by  far  the  greatest  female  mentality  I 
have  ever  met.  She  came  to  London  for  four  weeks 
and  played  Lady  Macbeth  and  Elizabeth,  Queen  of 
England,  for  two  weeks  each.  Her  Lady  Macbeth, 
though  a  very  fine  performance,  of  which  the  sleep- 
walking scene  was  a  positive  revelation,  took  such 
extraordinary  liberties  with  the  play  as  Shakespeare 
wrote  it  that  at  certain  points  it  seemed,  and  was  un- 
doubtedly, all  wrong ;  but  this  was  the  result  of  studying 
the  play  from  a  bad  translation,  as  she  afterwards 
admitted  in  conversation.  Her  favourite  dramatist  in 
Italy,  Giacometta,  had  in  her  younger  days  prepared  a 
version  of  the  play  for  her  to  "  star  "  in,  which  obscured 


136    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

so  much  of  the  text  that  she  was  quite  surprised,  and  most 
graciously  so,  when  it  was  pointed  out  to  her  how  much 
she  had  missed  of  the  great  story.  Macbeth  had  been 
my  favourite  study  for  six  or  seven  years  previously — 
and,  indeed,  is  yet — and  I  had  read  everything  I  could 
find  on  the  subject,  English  and  foreign,  and  I  could 
not  understand  at  first  how  such  an  intellect  could  have 
so  completely  tripped.  We  got  to  be  the  very  best  of 
friends  and,  through  the  interpretation  of  her  manager, 
Mr.  Wertheimer,  had  many  delightful  chats  on  the 
subject,  and  it  was  quite  amazing  to  note  her  interest 
in  some  of  the  points  I  was  able  to  bring  before  her.  Of 
course  any  attempt  to  make  Lady  Macbeth  the  star  part 
of  this  play  will  always  end  in  disaster.  Shakespeare 
called  the  play  Macbeth,  and  if  it  is  considered  in  its 
absolute  entirety  nothing  can  dethrone  him  from  his 
dominant  position  in  what  is  perhaps  the  greatest  play  in 
our  language,  as  well  as  the  nearest  approach  to  the  model 
of  the  great  Greek  tragedies  which  the  English  tongue 
can  show.  But  there  was  nothing  but  admiration  for 
her  performance  of  the  part,  as  she  had  studied  it.  And 
if  one  writes  this  of  her  Lady  Macbeth,  what  must  be 
said  of  her  Elizabeth  ?  In  all  my  life  I  never  saw  such 
acting.  It  was  beyond  all  praise.  The  part,  as  is 
known  to  many,  opens  with  the  Queen  as  a  young 
woman  in  love  with  Essex  (which  part  I  played),  and 
each  act  finds  her  and  all  her  court  growing  older  until 
we  meet  her  in  the  last  act,  a  withered,  dogmatic  old 
hag.  It  runs  the  gamut  of  the  emotions  and  brings  into 
play  all  the  phases  of  the  actor's  skill.  At  every  point 
Mme.  Ristori's  triumph  was  complete.  Even  in  her 
love-making  one  forgot  her  advanced  age  in  her  exquisite 


AIADA.MK     KlSTiiKl 


[To  lace  page  136 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     137 

art,  and  when  Elizabeth's  death  came  at  the  end  you 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  from  the  tension  in  which  she 
had  held  you  and  of  positive  gratitude  to  the  artist  who 
could  weave  such  a  spell  of  art  around  you.  An  actor 
of  any  years'  standing  is  often  asked :  "  What  is  the 
greatest  piece  of  acting  you  ever  saw  ?  "  I  have  no  kind 
of  hesitation  in  stating  that  my  very  biggest  memories 
are  Ristori's  Elizabeth  and  Phelps's  Sir  Pertinax  Mac- 
sycophant  {Man  of  the  World).  When  it  is  said  that  Mme. 
Ristori  was  in  private  a  perfectly  charming  gentlewoman, 
kind  and  tolerant  to  all  and  most  considerate  to  the 
humbler  workers  of  the  stage,  it  may  be  imagined  the 
regard  in  which  she  was  held.  It  was  a  most  fortunate 
engagement  for  me.  I  pleased  the  audience  in  both 
plays.  The  Press  of  London  were  unanimous  in  my 
favour  and  especially  as  to  my  reading  of  blank  verse, 
which  gratified  me  very  much,  as  a  tribute  to  the  valuable 
instruction  of  my  kind  old  manageress,  Mrs.  Wyndham. 
Mme.  Ristori  could  not  have  been  more  gracious  to  me. 
Years  after,  I  was  coming  out  of  Wallack's,  New  York, 
where  I  had  witnessed  Henry  Irving's  Louis  XL,  and 
met  her  in  the  lobby.  Recognising  me,  she  threw  her 
arms  around  me  and  gave  me  a  continental  salutation 
on  both  cheeks,  which  arrested  the  attention  of  a  crowded 
lobby,  and  would  have  been  almost  embarrassing  from  a 
"  meaner  mortal." 

One  point  that  we  chatted  on  was  of  special  interest 
to  me  and  others  to  whom  I  mentioned  it  at  the  time,  and 
may  be  to  some  of  my  readers.  When  Salvini  came  to 
London  first  he  made  a  huge  hit,  and  yet  the  vogue 
did  not  last  long,  or,  indeed,  extend  to  a  second  visit. 
John  Hollingshead,  amongst  his  numerous  speculations. 


138    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE    STAGE 

brought  over  shortly  afterwards  his  great  Italian  rival, 
Signor  Rossi.  In  their  own  country  he  was  considered 
the  better  actor  and  many  English  people  were  inclined 
to  think  so,  too ;  but  he  came  second,  when  the  taste  was 
dead,  and  therefore  did  not  do  well ;  indeed,  Hollingshead 
told  me  that  he  played  King  Lear  one  night  at  Drury 
Lane  to  gross  receipts  of  £18  125.,  which  seemed  incred- 
ible for  a  great  actor  playing  a  Shakespearean  masterpiece 
in  what  was  called  the  National  theatre ;  but  it  was  true  ! 
Both  Rossi  and  Salvini  had  been  members  of  Mme. 
Ristori's  company  at  the  same  time,  and  she  would  not 
hear  of  any  comparison  between  the  two.  She  said  : 
"  Ah,  yes  !  Salvini,  attractive,  showy,  fascinating,  but 
melodramatic.  Rossi,  magnifique,  a  poet  !  "  And  this 
great  woman  had  been  at  times  something  more  than 
all  this.  Statesmen  entrusted  her  with  secret  missions 
during  Italy's  struggle  for  freedom,  and  in  1861  Count 
Cavour,  the  Italian  Prime  Minister,  wrote  to  her  :  "  Use 
that  authority  of  yours,  and  I  will  not  merely  applaud 
in  you  the  first  actress  of  Europe,  but  the  most  efficacious 
co-operator  in  our  diplomatic  negotiation."  All  honour 
to  the  memory  of  Mme.  Ristori,  say  I.  The  actor's 
calling  is  ennobled  by  such  an  artist  and  uplifted  by  the 
inclusion  in  its  ranks  of  such  a  gentlewoman. 

Strange  to  say,  this  engagement  which  brought  me 
so  much  genuine  pleasure  was  correspondingly  saddened 
by  a  very  serious  accident  in  which  I  was  the  absolutely 
innocent  prime  mover.  I  had  the  great  misfortune  to 
stab  poor  Rignold  under  the  following  distressing 
circumstances.  At  the  end  of  a  strenuous  and  well- 
arranged  sword  fight  I  used  to  disarm  him,  and  then 
ensued  a  struggle  for  a  dirk  which  he  drew  and  which 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     139 

I  finally  succeeded  in  wresting  from  his  hand  and  plung- 
ing into  his  ribs.  It  was  only  in  my  hand  a  second 
of  time.  On  the  first  night  he  had  looked  at  his  weapon 
and  remarked  on  its  sharpness  and  danger,  but  took  no 
steps  to  have  it  ground  down  or  blunted.  About  the 
third  or  fourth  night  I  found  it  penetrate  in  an  unusual 
manner,  and  to  my  horror  discovered  I  had  wounded  him 
very  badly.  He  behaved  like  the  plucky,  typical  Eng- 
lishman he  was,  but  the  blade  had  gone  perilously  near 
the  lung,  and  he  bled  terribly.  After  some  delay  a 
doctor  came  and  staunched  the  wound,  and  we  got  him 
home.  When  I  went  to  see  him  next  day  he  was  in  bed, 
though  on  the  road  to  recovery,  and  he  tried  to  put  me 
at  my  ease  as  much  as  possible  by  saying  it  was  entirely 
his  own  fault.  But  as  he  had  a  wife  and  five  children 
dependent  on  him,  in  addition  to  my  grief  for  a  very 
valued  old  friend,  my  feelings  may  be  imagined  until 
he  was  completely  restored  to  health.  Thomas  Swin- 
bourne  took  his  place  as  Macbeth.  I  once  read  (I  think 
it  was  in  De  Quincey)  of  the  exquisite  and  dainty 
pleasure  of  feeling  a  sharp  instrument  entering  human 
flesh.  "  God  defend  me  from  ever  experiencing  it  again," 
say  I. 

From  August  to  December,  1882,  I  was  engaged  by 
Augustus  Harris  to  play  in  the  Drury  Lane  autumn 
drama  called  Pluck,  by  Henry  Pettitt.  This  author  had 
almost  a  genius  for  constructing  and  writing  melodrama, 
and  his  successes  were  many ;  but,  unfortunately.  Pluck 
did  not  turn  out  one  of  his  best.  It  was  well  cast  and 
played,  and  ran  on  for  several  weeks,  but  not  to  very 
great  business.  My  success  as  Macduff  had  fired  my 
ambition,  and  in  November  of  that  year  I  made  up  my 


140    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

mind  to  "  have  a  shot  at  the  bigger  game  "  of  Macbeth. 
As  I  have  stated,  I  had  worked  at  the  part  for  years, 
and  had  prepared  a  careful  study  of  it.  The  best  way 
to  bring  it  before  the  public  appeared  to  be  by  use  of 
the  word  "  benefit,"  but  I  did  not  feel  that  I  had  any 
right  to  ask  my  fellow  artists  to  make  any  concessions 
for  me;  so  I  took  the  theatre  and  engaged  as  good  a 
cast  as  I  could  procure,  and  paid  each  of  them  his  own 
terms.  My  confreres  included  Thomas  Swinbourne, 
John  Ryder,  Somerset,  Jackson,  Louise  Moodie,  and 
others.  All  were  sound  Shakespearean  performers. 
Then  I  asked  Ryder  to  run  me  once  through  the  part, 
that  I  might  not  miss  any  good  effect  by  not  being 
cognizant  of  it.  He  cheerfully  acceded  to  my  wish, 
and  added,  "  And  I  will  play  Banquo  for  you  and  manage 
your  stage;  any  one  who  plays  Macbeth  for  the  first 
time  does  not  need  anything  else  to  think  about."  The 
morning  came  (November  11),  and  I  can  say,  without 
egotism,  that  I  succeeded  beyond  my  expectations.  The 
audience  was  enthusiastic,  and  the  Press  (with  one 
exception)  unanimous  in  telling  me  I  was  on  the  right 
road,  and  full  of  encouragement  for  me  to  go  on.  The 
exception  was  one  of  the  only  critics  I  had  a  speaking 
acquaintance  with  (Clement  Scott,  of  the  Daily  Tele- 
graph), who  took  a  curious  tone,  which  seemed  to  infer 
that  it  was  quite  an  impertinence  on  my  part  to  study 
Shakespeare  at  all,  and  in  his  notice,  as  in  many  others 
about  that  time,  appeared  to  wish  to  keep  the  Shake- 
spearean field  for  the  exclusive  grazing  of  certain  artists 
toward  whom  he  was  strongly  biassed.  It  was  rather 
strange,  because  he  had  been  loud  in  my  praises  as 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     141 

Macduff  a  few  months  previously,  and,  without  my 
knowledge,  a  friend  of  mine,  a  learned  Queen's  Counsel 
of  the  day,  "  tackled  "  him  on  the  subject  one  night 
at  the  Garrick  Club,  and  found  his  mind  and  opinions 
perplexing  and  contradictory  in  the  extreme.  Any 
actor  who  goes  in  for  a  study  of  Macbeth  is  doing  quite 
a  deal  for  art's  sake  and  for  his  personal  gratification. 
It  is  not  one  of  the  grateful  parts  of  Shakespeare.  As  a 
proof  of  this,  it  may  be  pointed  out  how  few  of  the  great 
ones  of  the  past  have  left  their  mark  in  the  part.  It  is 
only  when  you  get  on  the  stage  in  it  and  have  settled 
down  to  know  it,  that  you  find  out  what  a  wilderness 
of  words  it  is,  and  every  line  right  "  in  the  teeth  of  the 
audience."  Not  a  moment  when  the  audience  is  not 
antagonistic  in  its  feeling  towards  the  part.  It  is  like 
rolling  a  barrel  up  a  hill ;  not  a  point  where  you  can  take 
an  "  easy  "  !  An  old  actor  said  to  me  when  I  was 
going  to  play  it,  and  he  heard  I  had  worked  at  it  for  a 
long  time,  "  Ah,  my  lad,  it  is  a  great  mistake.  The 
same  study  put  into  some  other  parts  might  get  you  a 
fortune;  but  not  Macbeth  !  "  And  yet  it  always  was 
(and  is  to-day)  to  me  the  most  entrancing  study,  and 
one  that  an  artist  cannot  bend  his  mind  to  without  (I 
think)  finding  his  knowledge  and  perception  of  human 
nature  broadening  at  every  page. 

One  of  my  great  gratifications  in  my  first  essay  was  the 
behaviour  of  good  old  John  Ryder.  After  I  had  settled 
up  all  my  expenses  and  paid  all  my  co-workers  their 
terms  (there  was  not  a  great  balance)  I  went  to  him  and 
said,  "Now,  old  friend,  what  do  I  owe  you?"  He 
replied  :    "  Not   a   farthing !  "     And   he   added   in   his 


142    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

heartiest  manner  :  "  I  like  you,  my  lad,  and  I  believe  in 
you,  and  when  you  want  to  '  have  a  cut '  at  any  of  the 
other  big  parts  that  I  am  familiar  with,  come  to  me, 
and  I'll  do  the  same  again."  I  was  greatly  affected  by 
his  kindness.  Needless  to  say,  I  found  some  other  way 
to  show  my  appreciation,  and  a  way  that  pleased  him 
very  much.  The  night  of  the  performance  I  was  ten- 
dered a  dinner  at  the  Albion,  at  which  a  number  of  old 
friends  and  well-wishers  assembled,  and  all  sorts  of  kind 
things  were  said  to  and  of  me ;  and  my  oldest  "  pal," 
who  had  been  instrumental  in  my  first  appearance 
(Henry  Melton),  presented  me  with  a  sword  which  had 
been  worn  on  the  stage  by  Walter  Montgomery  and 
which,  he  said,  he  had  been  keeping  for  me  for  years. 
This  sword  I  afterwards  gave  to  the  Players'  Club  in 
New  York  for  their  museum  of  relics  of  the  famous 
departed  ones.  (I  presume  it  is  there  still.)  And  so 
ended  one  of  the  great  events  of  my  life,  to  which  I 
always  look  back  with  very  considerable  pride.  About 
this  time  I  had  several  proposals  of  financial  assistance, 
and  one  friend  went  so  far  as  to  offer  to  "  back  "  me  in  a 
London  theatre.  I  suppose  it  would  have  been  wise  to 
accept  it,  as  so  many  others  have  done,  but  somehow, 
though  always  ready  for  a  gamble  on  my  own  account, 
I  shrank  from  the  position  of  using  (perhaps  losing) 
other  people's  money,  and  I  hoped  there  would  always 
be  room  in  the  calling  for  a  salaried  skilled  workman. 
It  is  possible  I  may  have  missed  some  advancement 
by  the  course  that  I  chose,  but  it  is  also  certain  that 
I  have  missed  a  lot  of  anxieties,  and  when  the  time 
comes  for  my  final  exit  my  responsibilities,  as  far  as 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     143 

investments  are  concerned,  will  be  covered  by  my  own 
roof-tree. 

From  March  to  June,  1883,  I  played  at  the  Adelphi 
in  Stormheaten,  a  version  by  Robert  Buchanan  of  his 
fine  book  God  and  the  Man.  Charles  Warner  acted 
the  leading  part.  Christian  Christianson,  and  I  played 
the  villain,  Richard  Orchardson.  Miss  Amy  Roselle, 
Kate  Christianson ;  C.  W.  Somerset  and  others  were  in 
a  good  cast.  It  was  also  a  fine  production,  the  great 
scene  in  the  Arctic  Sea  being  a  splendid  stage  picture. 
The  play  was  brilliantly  noticed  by  the  Press,  but  it  was 
only  a  passable  success,  and  did  not  realise  the  expecta- 
tions formed  by  reading  the  book.  One  very  funny 
incident  occurred  during  the  run  of  the  play.  The 
reader  will  remember  that  the  feud  which  forms  the 
basis  of  the  very  dramatic  story  is  caused  by  the  villain's 
shooting  the  hero's  favourite  dog.  This  dog,  with  us, 
was  a  really  magnificent  St.  Bernard,  which  the  managers 
(the  Messrs.  Gatti)  bought  for  the  play,  and  they  handed 
him  over  to  Warner  to  keep  with  him  so  that  he  might 
be  quite  accustomed  to  his  voice  and  presence  and 
perfectly  at  home  with  him  at  all  points.  Warner  and 
Carlo  became  inseparable.  On  the  night  in  question 
I  had  duly  shot  Carlo,  in  the  first  act,  and  one  of  the 
Gatti  Brothers  had  taken  him  away  and  brought  him 
back  into  the  refreshment  room  in  front  of  the  theatre. 
By  that  time  we  were  playing  the  last  act,  and  years 
had  supposed  to  elapse  when,  some  door  being  open, 
Carlo  heard  Warner's  voice  on  the  stage.  He  gave 
an  enormous  yelp,  rushed  down  the  stairs,  through 
the    orchestra    stalls,    cleared    the    orchestra    with    a 


144    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

bound,  and  shaking  his  tail  with  glee  laid  down  at 
Warner's  feet  on  the  stage.  His  inartistic  resuscitation 
at  that  juncture  completely  killed  the  end  of  the  play, 
but  as  an  individual  effort  he  made  a  great  success 
and  secured  the  best  applause  of  the  evening.  Charlie 
Warner  was  a  fine,  robust  actor,  full  of  virile  power. 
His  Tom  Robinson  in  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend  was  a 
striking  performance,  and  his  Coupeau  in  Charles  Reade's 
version  of  VAssommoir,  called  Drink ,  was  a  perfect 
tour  de  force  and  made  a  great  impression.  His  Harry 
Dornton  {Road  to  Ruin)  was  excellent.  His  experiments 
in  Shakespeare  were  not  so  successful.  His  tragic  end 
in  New  York  a  few  years  ago  came  as  a  great  shock  to 
many,  including  the  writer.  Poor  old  Charlie  !  Only 
his  intimates  (of  whom  I  was  certainly  one)  knew  that  a 
great  abiding  sorrow  had  clouded  nearly  all  his  manhood, 
and  in  addition  he  had  received  his  full  share  of  "  for- 
tune's buffets."  All  which  undoubtedly  told  on  a 
naturally  excitable  temperament;  but  that  he  should 
"  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil  "  and  seek  "  the  undiscover'd 
country  from  whose  bourne  no  traveller  returns  "  with 
such  dread  determination  was  terribly  sad,  and  caused 
a  large  circle  of  friends  the  keenest  grief. 

It  seems  almost  impossible  that  thirty  years  have 
passed  since  that  sweet  woman  Miss  Mary  Anderson 
first  appeared  in  England,  and  set  all  London  talking 
about  her  beauty  and  her  talent.  Yet  so  it  is.  The 
circumstances  in  which  she  came  to  us  were  as  follows  : — 
Henry  Irving  had  contracted  to  take  the  whole  Lyceum 
company,  including  Miss  Terry,  to  America,  under  the 
management  of  Henry  E.  Abbey,  and  one  of  the  condi- 


[London  Stereoscopic  Co. 


J.    H.    BAKNES    AS    INUOMAR 


[To  face  p'tge  1-15 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     145 

tions  of  the  contract  was  that  Abbey  should  take  the 
Lyceum  off  his  (Irving's)   hands.     It  was  decided  to 
bring  Miss  Anderson  from  America  as  an  attraction  to 
fill  the  vacancy.     She  had  been  a  successful  star  in  her 
own  country  for  years,  but  I  do  not  think  her  engage- 
ment in  London  was  regarded  with  any  overweening 
confidence.     Abbey  sailed  away  to  New  York  to  look 
after  his  attractions  there,  and  left  his  London  affairs 
in  the  hands  of  a  particularly  able  lieutenant,  Michael 
Gunn,  manager  of  the  Gaiety,  Dublin.     Miss  Anderson 
opened  on  September  1,  1883,  as  Parthenia  in  Ingomar, 
and  I  had  the  honour  of  being  selected  to  play  the  name- 
part  with  her.     She  succeeded  with  the  public  from  the 
first  line.     Ingomar  is  a  play  which  bears  its  date  pretty 
badly.     Adapted  from  the  German  by  a  lady  dramatist, 
Maria  Lovell,  it  is  very  much  of  a  dramatic  duet  between 
Ingomar  and  Parthenia,  and  the  former  has  often  to  act 
a  brave  barbarian  with  language  lacking  the  necessary 
vigour  and  character.     In   his   later  years  that  great 
literary  man  and  dramatist,  Charles  Reade,  did  a  version 
of  the  play  for  Charles  Warner  called  The  Son  of  the 
Wilderness,  which  was  a  much  more  vigorous  play.     On 
the  first  night  Miss  Anderson  had  not,  up  to  a  point, 
tuned   her   splendid   contralto   speaking   voice   to   the 
acoustics  of  the  Lyceum  (never  a  very  easy  theatre  to 
speak  in),  and  some  playgoer  in  the  gallery  said  :  "  Speak 
up,  Mary  !  "     Never  having  been  used  to  that  kind  of 
interruption,  she  was,  at  first,  disposed  to  resent  it,  but 
I  was  able  to  reassure  her,  in  a  whisper,  that   it  was 
really  only  intended  kindly,  and  she  took  the  tendered 
advice  good-humouredly,  and  made  a  very  great  hit 


146    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

indeed,  and  receiving  an  ovation  at  the  end  of  the  play. 
Ingomar  did  not,  however,  draw  much  more  than  working 
expenses.   It  was  followed  in  a  short  time  with  The  Lady 
of  Lyons,  with  a  strong  cast,  including  William  Farren, 
Mrs.  Billington,  Mrs.   Arthur   Stirling,   and  others.     I 
played  Claude  Melnotte,  but  I  had  grown  rather  too 
bulky  in  physique  to  give  the  idea  of  so  ultra-romantic 
a  part,  and  I  did  not  fancy  myself  in  it  very  much. 
Miss  Anderson  again  looked  lovely  as  Pauline,  and  made 
another  stride  in  the  favour  of  the  London  public.     Still 
the  big  event  was  to  come.     During  the  run  of  The  Lady 
of   Lyons   our   late   great   King   and   his    ever-popular 
consort,  our  beloved  Queen  Dowager  (then  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales),  visited  the  theatre,  and  after  certain 
inquiries  by  the  Prince  he  sent  for  Miss  Anderson  and 
presented  her  to  the  Princess,  who  gave  her  the  bouquet 
that  she  was  carrying.     A  small  thing,  perhaps,  and  Miss 
Anderson's  stepfather  and  manager  (Dr.  Griffin)  affected 
to  take  little  notice  of  it,  but  he  did  not  know  what 
weight  it  had  with  the  ladies  of  English  society.     How- 
ever, he  soon  found  out.     The  business  improved  appre- 
ciably the  next  day;  and  when  we,  in  a  short  time, 
produced  Pygmalion  and  Galatea,  the  success  was  com- 
plete.    For  weeks  and  months  the  Lyceum  was  scarcely 
large  enough  to  hold  the  audiences  that  worshipped  at 
the   shrine   of  the  new   star.     She   certainly   did   look 
divine  in  her  white  robe  as  Galatea,  her  glorious  young 
womanhood  was  set  off  thereby  to  perfection,  and  each 
night  saw  the  theatre  crowded  with  "  fair  women  and 
brave  men,"  and  all  that  was  best  and  brainiest  in  our 
land.     It  was  a  curious  fact  that  she  was  almost  more 


Photo] 


[The  "  VuHiler  Veijde  Lit/ht  " 
MISS    MARY    ANDERSON    AS    GALATEA 


[To  face  page  146 


Jin.l'. 


[London  Stereoscopic  Co. 


J.    II.    BARNES    AS    PYGMALION 


[To  face  page  147 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     147 

admired  by  the  ladies  of  England  than  by  the  men ;  but, 
as  is  always  the  case,  the  latter  followed  where  the  former 
led.  It  was  a  most  pleasant  season,  and  in  a  thousand 
little  ways  she  endeared  herself  to  all  of  us.  Personally 
I  recall  with  the  liveliest  gratitude  her  great  sympathy 
with  me  in  a  domestic  sorrow,  and  I  have  always  kept  a 
very  warm  spot  in  my  heart  for  this  clever  and  gentle 
comrade. 

The  production  of  Pygmalion  and  Galatea  was  very 
nearly  marred  by  a  serious  situation  that  arose.  Miss 
Anderson  had  played  the  part  of  Galatea  a  great  deal 
in  America,  and  had  been  used  to  making  certain  effects 
and  points.  W.  S.  Gilbert,  the  author,  was  a  great 
power  in  those  days  and  more  than  ordinarily  dogmatic ; 
and  he  objected  strongly  to  some  of  these  effects  and 
points,  with  the  result  that  the  two  came  to  loggerheads 
one  day.  The  rehearsal  was  dismissed,  and  things 
looked  black,  but  the  diplomatic  Michael  Gunn  took 
Gilbert  out  to  luncheon,  and  when  we  met  next  day  the 
clouds  had  rolled  by  and  the  sky  was  clear  again.  The 
cast  was  a  good  one  :  Amy  Roselle,  Cynisca  (excellent); 
Harry  Kemble,  Chrysos  ;  Frank  Macklin,  Leucippe ;  Mrs. 
Billington,  Daphne ;  the  writer,  Pygmalion ;  and  all  the 
other  parts  well  filled.  For  the  first  few  weeks  I  also 
played  Jasper  Carew  in  A  Sheep  in  Wolfs  Clothing  as  a 
first  piece.  This  was  also  well  cast.  Later  on,  Gilbert 
having  finished,  for  Miss  Anderson,  his  fine  one-act  play 
Comedy  and  Tragedy,  we  rehearsed  and  produced  it  in 
January  1884.  Another  great  hit,  and  we  ran  on  merrily 
to  crowded  houses  until  Easter.  In  Comedy  and  Tragedy 
I  played  the  Due  d'Orleans,   Regent  of  France,   and 


148    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

George  Alexander  came  over  from  the  St.  James's,  by 
permission  of  Messrs.  Hare  and  Kendal,  to  play  the 
husband,  d'Aulnay. 

At  Easter,  1884,  another  American  star  came  to  the 
Lyceum,  viz.  Lawrence  Barrett,  with  a  play  called 
Yorick^s  Love,  which  was  not  very  successful.  Mean- 
time Miss  Anderson  with  her  entire  company  went  on  a 
short  tour  of  the  English  provinces,  visiting  Edinburgh, 
Glasgow,  Liverpool,  Manchester,  Dublin,  and  Birming- 
ham. Everywhere  she  was  received  with  acclamation, 
and  our  tour  was  a  veritable  triumphal  march.  In 
Dublin  (a  city  ever  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  beauty) 
the  students  of  Trinity  College  insisted  on  dragging  her 
carriage  through  the  streets.  Some  slight  changes  had 
taken  place  in  the  company  for  the  tour.  My  old 
friend,  William  Rignold,  joined  us,  and  I  gave  up  the 
Due  d'Orleans  in  Comedy  and  Tragedy  to  him  and  played 
d'Aulnay  at  Miss  Anderson's  request.  "  Rowley " 
Buckstone,  so  popular  in  America,  was  also  with  us. 
One  of  the  great  pleasures  of  the  tour  was  the  fact  that 
it  brought  me  into  a  close  friendship  with  that  "  prince 
of  good  fellows,"  Henry  Kemble,  which  continued 
uninterruptedly  up  to  his  death  in  recent  years.  In 
all  my  life  I  never  met  a  bigger-hearted  man  or  more 
thorough  gentleman.  Nothing  on  earth  could  make  him 
do  or  think  a  mean  or  unworthy  thing.  His  soul  was 
that  of  a  patrician.  He  had  his  foibles  doubtless  ! 
Who  has  not  ?  But  they  were  far  outweighed  by  his 
sterling  qualities.  A  real  humorist  !  The  stories  of 
dear  old  "  Beetle  "  would  fill  many  pages,  but  like  so 
many  of  the  strongly  marked  characters  of  the  stage 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     149 

they  would  be,  to  an  extent,  pointless  without  some  sort 
of  imitation  of  the  original's  manner.  One  of  his  very 
strongest  traits  was  his  absolute  fearlessness  in  saying 
what  he  thought  of  any  man  or  his  actions,  and  that  to 
his  face  for  choice.  I  remember  he  and  W.  S.  Gilbert 
had  a  difference  of  opinion  during  the  rehearsals  of 
Pygmalion  and  Galatea,  and  he  astonished  us  all  by  saying 
to  that  autocratic  author  in  his  most  sententious  manner : 
"  Doubtless  you  think  yourself  a  very  clever  person, 
Mr.  Gilbert,  but  I,  for  one,  fail  to  see  it." 

During  the  last  week  of  the  tour,  in  Birmingham,  I 
received  an  offer  by  cable  to  play  the  leading  business  of 
the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  in  the  autumn. 
Now  this  theatre,  under  the  management  of  Messrs. 
Sheridan  Shook  and  A.  M.  Palmer,  had  long  been  about 
the  foremost  in  the  United  States.  The  terms  offered 
me  were  excellent,  and  I  closed  with  them  at  once ;  and 
after  a  good  holiday  I  took  all  my  belongings  to  New 
York  with  me  and  began  my  engagement  there  on 
October  6,  1884.  But,  unfortunately,  I  was  destined 
to  suffer  a  great  disappointment.  Mr.  Shook  was  still 
the  financial  partner,  but  Mr.  Palmer  had  left,  and 
had  gone  into  management  at  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre.  His  successor,  Mr.  James  Collier,  whose 
experience  had  been  gained  in  a  broader  and  coarser 
field  of  work,  was  in  no  way  his  equal  in  either  judgment 
of  plays  or  stage  management,  and  I  had  a  most  dis- 
astrous season  as  regards  plays  and  parts.  During  the 
six  months  covered  by  my  engagement  we  tried  four 
plays — The  Artist's  Daughter,  Dwprez  and  Son  (a  new 
version  of  UAveugle),   by  the  author  attached  to  the 


150    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

theatre,  one  Cazauran ;  Three  Wives  to  One  Husband,  a 
farcical  comedy,  and  The  Prisoner  for  Life,  a  poor  melo- 
drama. Not  one  of  them  was  nearly  a  good  play,  and 
in  not  one  of  them  had  I  a  part  with  any  scope  to  justify 
my  selection  for  the  position.  It  was  rather  heartbreak- 
ing, and,  in  the  circumstances,  I  was  not  sorry  when  my 
time  was  up. 


J.    H.    BARNES    IN    "A    PRISONER    FOR    LIFE  " 


[To  face  page  150 


XVII 

I  HAD  gone  out  to  New  York  on  the  s.s.  Grecian 
Monarch  (Captain  Bristow),  and  it  so  fell  out  that  the 
same  ship  was  sailing  home  on  the  day  that  my  en- 
gagement ended.  With  some  friends,  we  were  a  party 
of  seven,  and  the  managers  of  the  line  consented  to 
let  the  boat  lay  over  one  tide  for  us,  so  that  I  played  up 
to  and  inclusive  of  Saturday  night  and  went  on  board 
after  the  performance  and  sailed  away  before  we  were 
up  in  the  morning.  Of  course,  there  was  not  a  very 
full  list  of  passengers,  or  this  could  not  have  been 
arranged.  I  reached  London  on  April  14,  1885.  The 
Union  Square  company  were  good  enough  and  strong 
enough  for  anything  if  we  had  been  provided  with 
material  :  Sara  Jewett,  Maude  Harrison,  Eloise  Willes, 
Ida  Vernon,  John  Parselle  (an  old  English  actor  who 
died  during  the  season),  James  Stoddart,  Jack  Mason 
(now  one  of  America's  best  actors  and  most  successful 
stars).  Stoddart  was  a  delightful  comrade  and  an  ad- 
mirable actor,  a  member  of  an  old  Liverpool  theatrical 
family,  very  strong  in  forcible,  rough  parts  of  a  hard 
nature.  The  American  papers  praised  his  Penholder 
on  One  Touch  of  Nature  very  highly,  but  he  could  not 
compare  with  Ben  Webster  to  any  one  who  had  seen  the 
latter.  He  was  lacking  in  that  great  actor's  tenderness. 
I  only  saw  Ben  Webster  in  two  or  three  parts,  and 

151 


152    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

those  quite  in  his  decline,  but  he  was  something  very 
Hke  a  genius,  without  doubt.  H.  J.  Byron,  a  good 
judge,  once  told  me  he  was  the  greatest  actor  that  he 
ever  saw,  and  he  added  :  "  I  have  seen  him  play  every- 
thing, from  tragedy  to  country  boys,  and  all  better 
than  anybody  else." 

During  my  season  at  Union  Square  one  of  my 
favourite  pastimes  was  attending  the  sales  at  "  Tatter- 
sail's  of  New  York,"  then  under  the  management  of 
a  very  able  man,  William  ("  Billy  ")  Easton,  a  model 
auctioneer  and  a  great  authority  on  all  matters  per- 
taining to  horses,  of  which  I  have  always  been  very 
fond ;  and  it  was  during  this  season  that  poor  Fred 
Archer,  the  famous  jockey,  whom  I  had  known  inti- 
mately in  England,  came  out  to  New  York  with  his 
friend  Captain  Bowling  to  try  to  forget  his  grief  in  the 
loss  of  his  wife.  We  saw  a  great  deal  of  each  other. 
I  have  rarely  met  a  man  so  bowed  down  with  sorrow. 
He  wanted  to  start  back  to  England  almost  as  soon 
as  he  had  landed,  but  we  persuaded  him,  amongst  us, 
that  he  could  do  nothing  at  home  in  the  off-season  of 
racing,  and  he  finally  carried  out  his  original  intention 
and  went  on  to  Texas,  where  Lord  Aylesford  had  a  big 
ranch,  and  where  he  stayed  some  weeks,  getting  back 
to  England  in  time  to  "  get  into  harness  "  for  the  re- 
sumption of  his  work  in  the  spring.  I  wonder  if  the 
real  story  of  the  two  years  preceding  his  tragic  death 
has  ever  been  known  or  told,  and  I  wonder  if  I  gauged 
the  facts  aright  ?  I  am  inclined  to  think  I  did.  He 
made  me  his  confidant  oftentimes  in  New  York,  and 
also  when  I  returned  to  England ;  finding  me  sympa- 
thetic he  talked  very  freely  to  me.     When  I  heard  of  his 


'"'^ISSw. 


FRED    ARCHER    (1885) 


[To  face  page  153 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE    STAGE     153 

sad  end  I  was  back  in  the  United  States,  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  I  sent  a  cable  of  condolence  to  his  people 
at  Newmarket  and  in  my  mind  pieced  together  what  I 
knew  of  his  later  life  as  thus  :  Poor  Fred  had  not  had 
many  advantages  in  his  youth,  and  as  he,  by  degrees, 
rose  to  his  big  position  he  got  to  know  and  like  a  better 
class  of  people  and  surroundings,  but  he  was  without 
any  resources  within  himself.  He  did  not  care  for 
reading  at  all.  When  he  married  the  well-educated 
daughter  of  a  rich  trainer  she  brought  something  into 
his  life  that  he  had  never  known  before,  and  his  greatest 
delight  was  to  get  home  and  listen  to  her  playing  the 
piano  and  her  animated  well-read  conversation.  When 
she  was  taken  from  him  the  void  was  truly  awful,  and 
was  never  filled  or  lost  sight  of.  He  has  referred  to 
it,  in  talking  to  me,  at  the  most  extraordinary  and  un- 
expected moments  ;  once  after  one  of  his  most  vigorous 
finishes  at  Kempton.  And  so  two  years  dragged  on, 
and  then  came  that  dreadful  typhoid  and  the  delirium 
succeeding  it,  when,  left  alone  by  accident,  his  poor 
mind  recurred  to  the  one  topic  that  was  always  upper- 
most, and  he  took  matters  into  his  own  hands  and  put 
an  end  to  everything.  Fred  Archer  was  a  great  man 
in  his  walk  of  life  !  To  those  who  knew  something  of 
racing  his  position  sometimes  appeared  anomalous. 
His  influence  was  almost  too  potent  and  powerful  ! 
As  an  instance  of  the  thoroughness  which  gained  him 
so  much  eminence,  the  following  may  be  interesting 
and  instructive  : — One  evening  in  my  garden  at  Ted- 
dington,  after  a  Kempton  meeting,  there  being  racing  at 
Windsor  next  day,  he  arranged  with  me  to  accompany 
him  to  the  latter  place  unusually  early  on  the  following 


154    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

morning.  We  started ;  and  I  gathered  from  his  manner 
that  he  was  not  in  a  communicative  mood,  so  I  did  not 
bother  him.  Arrived  at  Windsor  still  very  early,  we 
started  for  the  course,  and  once  there,  with  no  one 
about  except  the  waiters  putting  out  refreshments,  etc., 
he  proposed  a  walk  round  the  course,  which  was  very 
heavy  from  much  recent  rain.  At  the  bend  (through 
some  osier  beds)  he  began  to  prod  the  ground  with  his 
stick  and  heel,  and  then  it  all  came  out.  He  said  :  "  I 
am  riding  a  horse  for  Baird  in  the  first  race  to-day  [a 
maiden  plate].  If  I  can  keep  him  on  fairly  sound  going 
he  will  win  at  a  good  price ;  but  if  he  puts  one  foot  in 
the  mud  he  will  shut  up  like  a  clasp-knife."  All  this 
was  happening  whilst  some  of  his  rival  jockeys  were 
still  asleep  in  London  !  He  rode  the  horse  in  question, 
and  won  at  100  to  15.  And  people  sometimes  wonder 
how  other  people  become  great.  If  Carlyle,  who  said, 
"  Genius  meant  an  infinite  capacity  for  taking  trouble," 
was  right,  surely  Archer  might  be  cited  as  a  notable 
example. 

In  1885  the  theatrical  profession  was  not  as  crowded 
as  it  is  to-day,  and  artists  who  knew  their  business 
had  less  trouble  in  procuring  engagements.  At  least, 
that  was  my  experience.  I  had  settled  my  autumn 
arrangements  before  leaving  New  York  in  April  and, 
after  a  summer  holiday  on  the  river,  I  joined  Mrs. 
Bernard  Beere  for  her  tour  of  the  British  provincial 
towns  to  play  Loris  Ipanoff  (Fedora)  and  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  {Masks  and  Faces).  An  exceeding  pleasant 
engagement.  "  Bernie,"  as  her  friends  called  her,  was 
a  good  sort,  a  thorough  chum,  and  many  little  con- 
siderations were  shown  to  her  company  both  by  her 


Photo] 


[Ki)i;isfiuri/  and  Xotcutt 
CHARLES    H.     E.    BROOKFIELD    AS    TRIPLET 


[To  face  page  155 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     155 

and  her  business  manager,  Charles  Terry  (brother  of 
Ellen  and  Fred  of  that  name).  Travelling  was  made 
pleasant.  Business  was  excellent  and  the  company 
were  most  agreeable.  It  included  C.  H.  E.  "  (Charlie  ") 
Brookfield  late  joint  reader  of  plays  to  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain, a  delightful  companion,  very  witty,  also  very 
cynical  at  times;  and  that  charming  little  lady.  Miss 
Julia  Gwynne  (Mrs.  George  Edwardes).  Brookfield 
left  us  towards  the  end  of  the  tour,  and  my  old  friend, 
James  Fernandez,  took  his  place  as  Triplet,  which  was 
also  most  agreeable  to  me.  Mrs.  Beere  was  the  original 
Fedora  in  England,  and  gave  an  admirable  performance 
of  the  part  on  much  the  same  lines  as,  though  by  no 
means  an  imitation  of,  Sarah  Bernhardt.  She  was  also 
excellent  in  Peg  Woffington,  full  of  fun,  good  nature, 
and  humanity.  Brookfield's  de  Sirieux  {Fedora)  and 
Triplet  were  both  most  artistic;  and,  needless  to  say, 
the  latter  part  suffered  nothing  in  the  skilled  hands  of 
Fernandez  when  he  succeeded  to  it.  The  Press  and 
public  were  kind  to  us  wherever  we  went,  and  altogether 
we  were  very  jolly.  We  were  at  Leicester  for  the 
race  week,  and  staying  at  "The  Bell."  Mrs.  Beere 
gave  a  birthday  supper  there  to  a  lot  of  friends  (some 
came  from  London),  and  insisted  on  my  asking  Fred 
Archer,  who  was  also  in  the  hotel.  He  was  greatly 
pleased  with  the  invitation,  and  next  day,  on  the  course, 
he  gave  us  a  tip  which,  I  fancy,  paid  a  goodly  portion 
of  Mrs.  B.'s  expenses.  One  specially  pleasant  evening 
I  recall  during  this  tour.  Mr.  George  Edwardes  came 
down  to  Scarborough  to  meet  his  wife,  and  invited  a 
few  of  us  to  dinner  at  the  Grand  Hotel  on  Sunday 
evening.     Of  course,  we  dined  well,  and  afterwards  that 


156     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

brilliant  musician  Alfred  Cellier  sat  at  the  piano  and 
entertained  us  most  delightfully  with  all  sorts  of  scraps 
and  memories  and  instances  of  musical  plagiarisms  for 
hours.     What  a  grand  musician  he  was,  and  how  many 
big  men,  in  music,  whose  names  are  household  words, 
made  use  of  his  almost  unequalled  knowledge  when  they 
found  themselves  "  tied  in  a  knot  "  in  some  difficult 
matter   of   orchestration,    etc.     I   remember   this   par- 
ticular evening  he  spoke  of  the  perfection  and  beauty 
of  Gray's  "  Elegy  "  as  a  poem,  and  said  how  much  he 
should  like  to  set  it  to  music,  a  thing  he  afterwards 
did  to  the  delight  of  thousands  of  musical  connoisseurs. 
The  tour  ended  in  December,  and  after  a  happy  home 
Christmas,    cheered    by    the    bright    company    of    two 
American  friends,   I   soon   "  got  into  harness "   again 
and   reappeared   at   the   St.    James's,    still   under   the 
management  of  Messrs.  Hare  and  Kendal,  on  February 
13,  1886,  in  a  comedy-drama  called  Antoinette  Rigaud, 
adapted  from  a  French  play  of  the  same  name.     In 
this  performance  it  was  destined  that  "  history  should 
repeat  itself  "  !     As  in  my  former  engagement  at  this 
theatre,  I  had  a  great  scene  with  Mrs.  Kendal,  and  again 
with  her  splendidly  artistic  assistance,  I  made  an  un- 
questionable success  and  met  with  the  emphatic  ap- 
proval of  Press  and  public.     Some  of  the  company  had 
seen  the  play  in  Paris.     I  was  unable  to  do  so,  but  I 
was  told  that  my  part  made  little  or  no  impression  in 
the  French  performance.     I  don't  know  what  changes 
were  wrought  in  the  progress  of  adaptation,  but  cer- 
tainly in  the  St.  James's  production  it  worked  out  finely, 
and  I  doubt  if  I  ever  did  myself  more  good  with  one 
class,  viz.  the  dramatic  authors  of  the  day,  than  in  this 


FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     157 

particular  character.  One  of  the  loudest  in  my  praise 
on  the  first  night  was  A.  W.  Dubourg,  part  author  of 
New  Men  and  Old  Acres.  The  play  was,  however,  not 
an  overwhelming  success,  and  only  ran  until  May  21. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  and  John  Hare  were  in  the  cast, 
and  a  charming  young  American  actress  whom  1  have 
lost  sight  of  entirely.  Miss  Linda  Deitz.  Hare,  as  in  all 
cases  at  the  St.  James's,  produced  the  play  with  the 
utmost  care. 

This  may  be  a  fitting  point  for  me  to  place  on  record 
my  emphatic  opinion  that  Mrs.  Kendal  is  by  all  odds 
the  best  actress  that  the  English  stage  has  produced  in 
my  generation.  As  a  playgoer  and  stage-dreamer,  1 
saw  her  make  her  first  appearance  in  London  as  Miss 
Madge  Robertson  in  a  melodrama  at  Drury  Lane  en- 
titled The  Great  City,  a  version  of  Dickens's  Great  Ex- 
pectations, by  Andrew  Halliday,  in  1867.  In  the  'sixties 
I  saw  her  in  all  her  performances  with  the  fine  old 
Haymarket  company  (and  what  a  company  it  was  ! 
with  Buckstone,  Compton,  Howe,  Chippendale,  Mrs. 
Chippendale,  and  others) ;  in  the  old  comedies,  in  sup- 
port of  E.  A.  Sothern;  in  Gilbert's  fairy  comedies,  The 
Wicked  World,  Pygmalion  and  Galatea,  etc.,  and  I  saw 
her  at  the  Gaiety  and  elsewhere ;  and  I  never  saw  her 
play  a  part  in  which  she  failed  to  win  my  admiration. 
I  little  dreamed  in  those  days  that  it  would  ever  be  my 
lot  to  play  with  her,  and  yet  it  has  fallen  out  that  I 
have  had  the  happiness  of  being  associated  with  her  in 
many  big  plays  and  scenes,  and  happy  indeed  was  the 
man  who  had  her  invaluable  aid.  If  he  could  not  act 
with  her  to  help  him  he  might  well  take  himself  to  task 
as  to  whether  he  was  one  of  those  who  had  mistaken  a 


158    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

taste  for  a  talent  in  the  choice  of  his  profession.  Good 
in  everything,  brilHant  in  most,  she  was  a  splendid 
comedienne  and  absolutely  unapproachable  in  parts 
of  strongly  marked  womanliness  and  gentle  pathos, 
and,  like  all  the  great  artists,  male  and  female,  of  my 
experience,  she  went  down  for  her  finest  effects — not  up ; 
and  made  her  most  certain  and  profound  impressions  by 
apparently  simple  means.  The  English  stage  should 
be  proud  of  such  an  actress,  and  I  doubt  if  the  younger 
members  of  the  profession  nowadays  are  able  to  realise 
how  superb  she  was. 

During  her  later  years  the  puny  carpers  tried  in 
vain  to  pick  holes  in  her  invulnerable  armour  of  art 
and  womanhood.  Both  were  unassailable,  and  in  her 
dignified  retirement  she  stands  to-day,  reminding  one 
as  much  as  anything  of  Tennyson's  splendid  description 
of  the  lion  and  the  dogs  in  his  tragedy  of  The  Cup. 


XVIII 

Of  W.  H.  Kendal  almost  as  much  may  be  said.  I 
saw  him  raiake  his  first  appearance  in  London  at  the 
Haymarket  in  the  'sixties  in  a  farce.  I  saw  him  play 
an  eccentric  light  comedy  part  with  the  elder  Sothern 
in  a  play  called  A  Wife  Well  Won,  in  which  he  gave  an 
inimitable  performance,  and  made  the  star  "  put  his 
best  foot  foremost,"  indeed.  He  played  and  sang 
delightfully  in  a  burlesque  entitled  The  Frightful  Hair, 
a  travesty  of  a  drama  played  at  the  Lyceum  by  Band- 
mann,  entitled  The  Rightful  Heir.  (He  had  a  most 
pleasing  singing  voice.)  I  saw  him  play  all  through 
the  Haymarket  repertory  of  old  comedies.  He  was 
much  the  best  Young  Marlow  I  have  ever  seen.  No 
one  carried  himself  better  or  looked  more  graceful  in 
the  Georgian  costume.  His  figure  was  so  straight,  and 
he  wore  his  clothes  so  well.  I  followed  him  through  all 
his  career.  As  a  light  and  eccentric  comedian  he  has 
had  no  rival,  in  my  judgment,  since  Charles  Mathews. 
I  suppose  it  would  appear  foolish  when  two  great  artists, 
man  and  wife,  have  had  a  conspicuously  successful 
career  and  made  a  handsome  fortune  to  suggest  even 
that  any  little  thing  was  a  mistake,  but  it  is  just  possible 
that  in  some  of  their  very  successful  plays  he  occasion- 
ally  "  side-stepped  "  into   parts   of  deeper  feeling,   in 

which  he  was  not  quite  so  convincing.     But  his  per- 

159 


160    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

formances  in  A  Scrap  of  Papery  The  Queen's  Shillingy 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  and  a  remarkably  fine  one  in 
Impulse,  and,  indeed,  in  every  shade  and  phase  of  Hght 
comedy,  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

Happily,  the  deserved  and  pronounced  appreciation 
of  the  public  of  two  hemispheres  placed  the  Kendals 
above  any  financial  consideration  whatever,  and  when 
the  time  came  for  them  to  take  their  leave  of  the  pro- 
fession that  they  had  adorned  they  did  so,  as  they  had 
always  worked  in  it,  without  charlatanism  or  ostenta- 
tion. Long  may  they  live  to  enjoy  their  well-earned 
retirement,  say  I,  with  all  my  heart. 

Of  the  third  partner  in  the  firm,  Mr.  Hare  (now  Sir 
John),  similar  and  equally  emphatic  eulogy  may  well 
be  written.  An  artist  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair,  he 
has  done  some  perfectly  splendid  work  in  connection 
with  the  modern  stage,  and  his  knighthood  came  as  no 
surprise  but  as  a  matter  of  great  rejoicing  to  a  very 
wide  circle  of  friends  and  admirers.  It  was  always 
perfectly  satisfying,  often  astonishing,  to  watch  his 
cameo-like  performances,  especially  of  modern  parts. 
I  hardly  think  he  shone  so  brightly  in  his  few  attempts 
at  classic  or  conventional  roles.  His  art  was  essentially 
of  the  mimetic  school,  but  most  finished.  If  it  were 
possible  to  admire  anything  more  than  his  acting  of 
the  parts  that  he  made  his  own,  commend  me  to  his 
stage  management.  Just  now  several  of  the  up-to-date 
men  are  getting  tremendous  kudos  for  productions  of 
the  very  up-to-date  plays.  One  would  think  when 
reading  the  notices  of  the  Press  that  the  millennium 
of  stage  management  had  arrived.  Dear  me  !  London 
soon  forgets,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  who  assume 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     161 

to  direct  its  judgment  have  very  short  memories.  I 
have  worked  with  all  sorts  of  stage  managers,  and  I 
say  as  forcibly  as  I  can  within  the  limits  of  taste  that 
no  one  alive  could  give  John  Hare  an  ounce  as  a  stage 
manager.  To  enumerate  his  successful  productions 
would  mean  a  very  long  list  indeed,  but  in  atmosphere, 
perfection  of  detail,  good  taste,  and  completeness  he 
could  easily  hold  his  own  with  any  modern  man  that  I 
have  seen.  He  was  terribly  in  earnest  in  his  work,  and 
this  very  earnestness  made  him  at  times  fidgety  and 
even  a  little  irritable,  but  he  was  always  working  for 
the  general  good  effect,  as  opposed  to  any  individual 
performance,  and  it  was  a  lesson  in  artistic  discipline 
to  see  the  way  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  deferred  to  his 
ideas.  Their  association  was  in  every  way  a  worthy 
one,  and  of  the  utmost  value  to  the  contemporary 
stage. 

After  the  St.  James's  engagement  I  played  a  part  in 
a  drama  entitled  By  Land  and  Sea,  by  J.  L.  Shine  and 
J.  A.  Campbell,  at  the  Royal,  Birmingham,  for  a  trial. 
It  seemed  to  go  very  well,  but  has  not,  I  think,  been 
played  since. 

On  June  19,  1886,  I  took  up  Maurice  Barrymore's 
part  of  Louis  Percival  in  Jim  the  Penman  at  the  Hay- 
market  in  the  original  run  of  the  play,  in  which  Lady 
Monckton  appeared.  Barrymore  had  to  return  to 
America.     The  season  closed  on  July  30. 

I  was  then  engaged  by  Mrs.  Conover  to  play  Macbeth 
(my  mania)  at  the  Olympic.  We  produced  it  by  way 
of  rehearsal  at  Leicester  on  August  16  and  came  to 
London  on  August  26.  Mrs.  Conover  was  a  very 
pleasant  little  lady  of  Danish  extraction,  who  was  the 

M 


162    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

possessor  of  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  She  took 
the  Olympic  as  a  speculation,  and  I  fear  it  proved  a 
disastrous  one  for  her  in  more  ways  than  one.  After 
quite  a  liberal  management,  playing  herself  in  modern 
dramas,  etc.,  she  was  fired  with  an  ambition  to  tackle 
Lady  Macbeth,  and  it  must  be  stated  that  the  part  was 
quite  beyond  her.  The  whole  production,  though  care- 
fully done  by  Mr.  T.  Swinbourne,  was  dominated  by 
her  comparative  failure,  and  we  were  not  successful 
artistically  or  financially.  I  played  Macbeth  up  to 
Friday,  September  17,  and  left  after  the  performance 
for  Liverpool,  whence  I  sailed  on  September  18  on  the 
s.s.  Aurania  to  take  up  a  good  engagement  that  I  had 
settled  some  time  previously  to  support  Miss  Fanny 
Davenport  in  an  extended  tour  of  the  United  States  in 
a  repertory  which  embraced  Fedora,  Much  Ado,  As  You 
Like  It,  London  Assurance,  Oliver  Twist,  Lady  of  Lyons, 
and  School  for  Scandal.  Macbeth,  Medea,  and  The 
Hunchback  were  to  have  been  included,  but  we  found 
the  foregoing  list  enough.  We  opened  at  Union  Square, 
New  York,  October  11,  1886,  in  Much  Ado.  The  tour 
was  under  the  management  of  Miss  Davenport's  husband 
(Mr.  E.  H.  Price),  and  we  went  over  all  the  States  east 
of  the  Rockies.  I  think  Miss  Davenport  was  one  of 
the  best  all-round  actresses  that  America  has  produced 
in  my  time.  She  was  a  thoroughly  conscientious  artist, 
good  in  everything  and  excellent  in  many  parts.  She 
was  a  beautiful  woman,  tall  and  with  a  handsome  face, 
and  a  kindly,  good-natured  creature,  but  unfortunately 
when  I  was  with  her  she  was  not  in  the  enjoyment  of 
good  health.  At  the  time  she  secured  the  American 
rights  of  Fedora  from  Sardou,  some  two  or  three  years 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     163 

before,  she  had  grown  unduly  stout,  and  before  she 
began  to  play  the  part  she  went  through  a  rigorous 
course  of  Banting  somewhere  in  Europe,  and  it  so  com- 
pletely undermined  her  health  that  she  had  become  a 
martyr  to  dyspepsia  and  could  hardly  digest  a  biscuit. 
But  it  made  little  difference  to  her  admirable  work, 
with  which  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be  associated.  She 
was  a  very  fine  Fedora.  I  think  she  got  more  out  of 
the  strenuous  first  act  than  either  Bernhardt  or  Mrs. 
Beere,  and  I  had  seen  them  both  before  I  saw  her.  She 
was  a  good  Rosalind,  Lady  Teazle,  and  Lady  Gay 
Spanker,  a  capital  Nancy  Sikes,  and  in  many  respects 
the  best  Beatrice  that  I  have  ever  seen.  Much  Ado  is 
a  play  I  have  been  a  great  deal  associated  with  and 
have  played  in  many  hundred  times  altogether,  and,  in 
my  judgment,  the  play  gains  very  much  in  effect  if  the 
Benedick  and  Beatrice  are  a  swashbuckler  soldierly 
man  and  a  fine  womanly  woman.  Once  let  these  two 
characters  suggest,  in  ever  so  small  a  degree,  aesthetic 
temperaments,  and  the  play  loses  much  in  the  ultimate 
comedy  situations  of  their  love-making.  In  this  respect 
Miss  Davenport  was  ideal.  She  was  so  much  the  mistress 
of  herself  and  of  her  own  mind,  and  seemed  so  unlikely 
to  fall  in  love.  I  did  my  best  to  back  her  up  in  this 
view ;  and  in  many  cities,  notably  New  York,  Boston, 
and  Philadelphia,  our  success  was  very  emphatic,  not 
only  for  ourselves,  but  as  proving  we  were  successfully 
interpreting  the  sense  of  the  great  master.  It  will  ill 
become  me  and  would  be  diametrically  opposed  to  the 
intention  that  I  announced  in  my  opening  chapter  to 
endeavour  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  kind  things  said  of 
us,  but  they  were  very  gratifying  indeed.     Miss  Daven- 


164    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

port  died  in  1898.  The  company  were  good  and  well 
balanced.  They  included  Mr.  Wilton  Lackaye,  then 
playing  smaller  parts,  but  since  become  a  successful 
American  star.  Our  usual  Saturday  night  bill  was 
London  Assurance  and  the  short  version  of  Oliver  Twist, 
in  which  E.  H.  Price  (quite  a  good  actor)  played  Bill 
Sikes.  I  used  to  enjoy  this  programme.  I  made  Dazzle 
as  well-groomed  and  dashing  a  part  as  I  could,  and 
when  I  came  on  in  the  characteristically  villainous 
make-up  as  Fagin  the  audience  usually  gave  me  a  good 
round  of  applause  for  the  complete  and  absolute  dis- 
guise. As  showing  the  possibilities  for  investment  of 
capital  in  American  cities,  I  recall  that  Miss  Davenport 
bought  some  lots  on  the  outskirts  of  Chicago  in  the 
January  of  1887,  and  sold  them  in  the  following  April 
at  a  profit  of  18,000  dollars,  the  completed  deeds  never 
having  been  made  out  to  her.  We  were  in  New  Orleans 
for  Mardi  Gras,  which  was  a  great  event  in  those  days, 
and,  I  suppose,  is  still,  but  I  was  not  greatly  impressed 
with  the  street  procession.  It  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of 
poor  Lord  Mayor's  Show,  but  the  festivities  and  fancy 
dress  balls,  etc.,  in  the  evenings  were  very  gay  and 
amusing,  and  many  of  the  Southern  ladies  with  their 
wonderful  opaque  complexions  and  dark  eyes  were  very 
beautiful.  During  this  tour,  too,  I  got  my  first  sight 
and  impression  of  Florida,  with  its  soft,  languorous 
climate,  its  orange  groves,  its  semi-tropical  foliage,  and 
its  alligators.  St.  Augustine,  partly  old  Spanish,  was 
most  interesting.  There  were  grand  modern  hotels 
replete  with  every  luxury,  and  also  an  old-time  fort,  in 
which  a  large  party  of  Indians  were  quartered  when  I 
was  there  whilst  some  question  of  their  rights  was  being 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     165 

argued  in  Washington.  One  of  these  "  noble  red  men," 
with  the  absolutely  most  gruesome  and  cadaverous 
face  that  I  ever  saw,  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  being 
one  hundred  years  old,  and  as  having  captured  one 
hundred  scalps.  He  was  usually  sitting  in  the  sun  on 
a  low  wall,  and  even  the  little  children  of  his  tribe  drew 
away  from  him  in  fear  as  they  passed  him.  All  day  he 
sat  muttering  to  himself,  and  he  seemed  particularly 
vehement  at  sight  of  me.  I  don't  know  if  my  (then) 
ample  locks  stimulated  his  craving  for  further  deeds  of 
cruelty.  Could  he  see  them  now  that  "  the  gentleman 
with  the  hour-glass  "  has  worked  his  will,  he  would  be 
less  likely  to  notice  them,  I  feel  sure.  Whilst  playing  a 
return  visit  in  New  York  I  appeared  with  Miss  Daven- 
port in  a  big  benefit  organised  by  Joseph  Jefferson  at 
Wallack's  for  Mr.  Couldock,  a  fine  old  English  actor 
previously  mentioned  (May  1887),  and  during  our  visit 
to  Boston  I  met  that  great  actor,  William  Warren,  who 
for  so  many  years  was  attached  to  the  Boston  Museum 
though  constantly  receiving  tempting  offers  from  New 
York  and  elsewhere.  He  was  a  very  great  artist; 
indeed,  I  have  rarely  seen  a  better.  His  performances 
of  the  old  comedies  and  many  other  parts  were  quite 
exceptional,  and  he  was  a  delightful  personality  as  well. 
Many  were  the  happy  hours  spent  with  him  in  dear  old 
Miss  Fisher's  house  in  Bullfinch  Place,  where  he  lived 
all  his  days  and  where  he  used  to  preside  at  the  table 
and  sometimes  carve  the  English  joint.  Born  in  1812, 
he  retired  at  seventy  years  of  age  in  1882,  and  died  in 
1888,  beloved  and  respected  by  everybody.  Boston 
stood  with  bowed  head  at  his  funeral,  and  his  memory 
is  very  green  until  this  day.     One  of  his  great  jokes  was 


166    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

about  his  cousin  Joseph  Jefferson's  playing  of  Bob 
Acres  in  The  Rivals,  a  performance  which  did  not  meet 
with  Warren's  approval.  Asked  what  Jefferson  was 
doing  that  season,  he  replied  :  "  He's  playing  Bob 
Acres  in  The  Rivals,  and  Sheridan  forty  miles  away." 

At  the  end  of  the  foregoing  interesting  tour  I  sailed 
for  home  on  the  N.  G.  Lloyd  s.s.  Fulda,  and  arrived  on 
May  30,  1887. 


XIX 

In  July,  1887,  the  Princess's  Theatre  was  opened  in 
the  name  of  a  lady  from  America  unknown  in  London 
— Miss  Grace  Hawthorne.  The  business  manager  was 
Mr.  W.  W.  Kelly,  whose  home  nickname  was  "  Hustler  " 
Kelly.  He  soon  proved  that  he  had  not  acquired  the 
appellation  without  reason,  I  was  engaged  as  leading 
man,  and  we  opened  with  a  real,  good,  old-fashioned 
melodrama,  The  Shadows  of  a  Great  City,  which  had 
been  a  huge  success  in  the  United  States.  The  English 
rights  had  been  acquired  by  Mr.  W.  Calder,  who  had 
toured  with  it  in  the  provinces  for  some  months 
previously,  and  he  was  responsible  for  the  production 
at  the  Princess's  on  sharing  terms.  It  was  an  excellent 
play  of  its  kind,  and  very  soon  proved  a  bona  fide 
success.  Full  of  good  parts  which  were  well  cast,  it 
first  of  all  drew  large  pits  and  galleries,  and  finally  the 
more  fashionable  parts  of  the  house  began  to  follow 
suit.  In  the  cast  were  Miss  Mary  Rorke,  Miss  Cicely 
Richards,  who  gave  an  admirable  performance  of  a 
fine  character  part  just  in  her  way,  Harry  Nicholls, 
Harry  Parker,  the  writer,  and  also  W.  L.  Abingdon, 
who  here  made  his  first  appearance  in  London.  When 
Nicholls  left  for  his  engagement  at  Drury  Lane,  J.  L. 
Shine  took  his  place.  It  ran  until  December,  and  I 
believe  would  have  gone  longer  but  that  Miss  Hawthorne 

167 


168    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

desired  to  act,  and  I  do  not  think  it  was  pushed  very 
much  towards  the  end  for  more  than  one  reason,  I 
remained  under  the  same  management  for  fourteen 
months.  We  produced  during  that  time  Siberia,  by 
Bartley  Campbell,  Uncle  Totn^s  Cabin,  Hume  and  Law's 
Mystery  of  a  Hansom  Cab,  and  a  revival  of  The  Shadows 
of  a  Great  City,  which  took  me  up  to  September  11, 
1888.  It  was  a  curious  season,  and  although  business 
was  not  always  what  we  could  wish  it  was  truly  re- 
markable how  Mr.  Kelly  triumphed  over  difficulties  as 
they  arose — and  they  did  !  No  artist  ever  knew  him 
fail  to  respect  his  obligations.  The  same  business 
acumen  has  since  then  made  him  a  most  successful 
touring  and  provincial  manager,  and  assuredly  brought 
grist  to  the  mill  in  goodly  quantities. 

The  Mystery  of  a  Hansom  Cab  was  founded  on  a 
book  by  Fergus  Hume  which  had  made  a  great  popular 
success  at  that  time,  and  much  was  hoped  for  from 
the  play.  Unfortunately,  it  was  found  lacking  in  the 
qualities  that  make  for  success,  and  indeed  was  a  com- 
parative failure;  so  that  extraordinary  man,  John 
Coleman,  was  brought  in  to  give  it,  if  possible,  the 
necessary  fillip.  It  then  ran  about  three  months,  but 
was  only  a  moderate  success  after  all.  In  speaking  of 
John  Coleman  as  an  extraordinary  man  I  don't  think 
I  am  overstating  the  fact.  A  provincial  manager  of 
considerable  experience,  quite  a  well-read  man,  he  was 
an  actor  of  the  most  grandiloquent  and  (shall  I  say?) 
magnificent  methods.  He  had  not  even  a  nodding 
acquaintance  with  any  semblance  of  human  nature, 
and,  moreover,  he  was  without  exception  the  most 
case-hardened  man  in  vanity  I  have  ever  encountered. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     169 

Nothing  you  could  say  in  the  way  of  fulsome  flattery 
that  he  would  not  accept  as  his  just  desert;  and  his 
belief  in  himself,  his  glorious  egotism,  and  his  delight 
in  the  use  of  long  words  and  grandiose  sentences  were 
almost  unbelievable.  Unfortunately,  the  wonderful 
stories  of  him  must  perforce  lose  much  of  their  point 
because  one  is  not  able  to  convey  to  the  reader  some 
idea  of  his  method  of  speaking;  but  his  flights  of 
language  were,  nevertheless,  often  remarkable.  To  an 
open-mouthed  super  he  once  said  :  "  My  dear  sir,  will 
you  endeavour  to  demonstrate  to  the  denizens  of  the 
auditorium  that  you  are  playing  a  character  unlike 
anything  of  the  present  day?  And  when  you  ascend 
the  raking  piece  and  leave  the  stage  be  good  enough  to 
emit  a  greasy  laugh  of  truculent  defiance."  To  an 
equally  astonished  waiter  at  a  Lyceum  Fund  supper  he 
said  :  "  Would  it  be  infra  dig.  for  me  to  ask  for  a  little 
more  fish  ?  Heaven  knows  I  am  no  gourmand,  but 
really  these  infinitesimal  portions  are  positively  annoy- 
ing." I  met  him  once  when  he  was  about  to  produce  a 
version  that  he  had  prepared  of  Pericles  at  Stratford- 
on-Avon,  and  in  the  blandest  manner  he  said  to  me  in 
speaking  of  it  :  "  And  I  flatter  myself  that  I,  for  once, 
have  improved  on  the  Immortal  Bard."  On  another 
occasion  I  came  across  him  when  announcements  had 
appeared  that  Lewis  Waller  intended  to  produce 
Henry  V.  (This  was  a  part  in  which  John  greatly 
fancied  himself.  I  saw  him  play  it,  oh,  my!)  He 
said  to  me  :  "  My  dear  Barnes,  have  you  seen  it  an- 
nounced that  Lewis  Waller  is  about  to  enact  Henry 
V.  ?  "  I  replied  :  "  I  had."  He  stroked  his  full-blown 
moustache  and  said  :    "  Poor-r-r  wor-r-r-m  !  " 


170    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

He  loved  to  address  an  audience  at  all  times,  and 
would  stop  in  a  soliloquy  to  do  so  if  there  were  a  chance. 
Once  in  Lincoln,  in  playing  Claude  Melnotte  he  came 
to  the  point  some  lines  before  the  end — "  That  voice  ? 

thou  art ?  "     John  Coleman,  "  Thy  h-u-s-b-a-n-d  !  " 

A  man  walked  out  of  the  rather  empty  pit,  with  heavy 
boots  resounding.  John  advanced  to  the  footlights, 
and  said  :  "  My  dear  sir,  this  play  has  not  yet  con- 
cluded." The  man  looked  round,  paused,  and  made 
reply  :  "  No ;  I  dare  say  not,  John ;  but  I've  seen  as 
much  as  I  want,"  and  pursued  his  way  to  the  door,  not 
in  the  least  nonplussed. 

Coleman's  intimate  contemporaries  well  remember 
two  wonderful  stories  he  used  to  tell  of  himself  when  in 
a  convivial  mood.  One  was  of  some  young  sportsmen 
in  the  Theatre  Royal,  Lincoln,  and  the  other  of  an 
undergraduate  in  a  private  box  at  Cambridge.  Neither 
would  score  much  without  a  reproduction  of  his  style. 
To  his  dying  day  he  never  realised  that  his  hearers  were 
laughing  at  him,  and  not  with  him,  but  that  was  his 
peculiarity.  His  airy  self-complacency  was  never  irk- 
some ;   it  was  so  splendidly  amusing. 

In  the  autumn  of  1887  I  was  specially  engaged  to 
create  a  part  at  a  matinee  at  Drury  Lane  in  a  most 
ambitious  play  entitled  Nitocris,  by  Miss  Clo.  Graves. 
This,  I  think,  ought  to  have  been  a  great  event — it  was 
the  work  of  a  very  clever  woman's  life,  and  was  a  really 
fine  effort,  with  which  I  think  she  had  cruelly  bad  luck. 
First,  she  could  not  get  the  artists  whom  she  wanted 
for  many  of  the  parts.  Secondly,  the  principal  one 
was  played  by  a  great  personal  friend  of  the  authoress, 
who  was  quite  unable  to  do  it  adequate  justice.     Lastly, 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     171 

we  rehearsed  it  on  the  stage  at  Drury  Lane  during  the 
production  of  two  different  pantomimes  (one  for  the 
home  theatre  and  another  for  the  Tyne  Theatre,  New- 
castle), without  the  hammers  ever  ceasing  to  knock, 
and  it  is  a  Hteral  truth  that  the  first  time  we  ever  heard 
our  own  voices  in  the  play  was  on  the  morning  we 
played  it.  My  part,  Phedaspes,  was  a  fine  one — longer 
than  Hamlet.  The  whole  thing  was  rather  a  shame, 
and  I  do  not  know  how  she  bore  it.  If  that  play  were 
taken  in  hand  by  some  brilliant  producing  manager  at 
a  good  theatre  and  her  very  fine  ideas  carried  out,  it 
would  not  surprise  me  a  bit  if  it  were  a  great  success 
even  now.     (Mem.  for  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree.) 

On  October  1,  1888,  I  rejoined  Miss  Mary  Anderson 
for  her  tour  of  the  English  provinces  and  the  United 
States,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  her  last.  It  was  par- 
ticularly pleasant  to  be  with  her  again,  I  was  very 
much  gratified  to  hear  of  a  kind  expression  made  use 
of  by  her  mother  (Mrs.  Griffin)  when  she  heard  of  my 
engagement,  which,  not  being  said  in  my  presence,  or 
where  she  could  know  it  would  reach  me,  was  un- 
doubtedly sincere.  During  the  time  I  had  been  engaged 
elsewhere,  Miss  Anderson  had  produced  several  plays 
in  London,  The  Hunchback,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  The 
Winter^s  Tale  among  them.  In  the  last-named  she 
doubled  the  parts  of  Hermione  and  Perdita,  and  in 
the  latter  character  she  executed  a  country  dance  in 
one  scene  with  an  abandon  and  grace  worthy  of  Pavlova. 
To  see  this  beautiful  and  dainty  young  lady  throwing 
herself  with  evident  relish  into  such  a  revel  was  quite 
irresistible  to  the  public,  and  the  piece  was  a  huge 
success  for  nearly  a  whole  season  at  the  London  Lyceum, 


172    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

as  it  was  wherever  we  played  it.  Forbes -Robertson 
had  been  the  Leontes  in  London.  I  succeeded  him  on 
tour.  We  played  four  weeks  in  Great  Britain  up  to 
Dublin,  where  we  finished  on  a  Saturday  night  and 
dropped  down  to  Queenstown  and  sailed  from  there  by 
the  s.s.  Umbria  on  Sunday  morning.  I  remember  it 
was  one  of  the  worst  storms  known  for  years.  The  sea 
was  running  "  hills  high  "  in  Queenstown  Harbour,  and 
the  Umbria  was  seven  hours  late  coming  down  Channel 
from  Liverpool ;  so  the  state  of  the  Atlantic  for  our  first 
few  days  may  be  imagined.  It  was  quite  awful.  Our 
repertory  included  The  Winter^s  Tale,  Ingomar,  The 
Lady  of  Lyons,  Pygmalion  and  Galatea,  Comedy  and 
Tragedy,  etc.  Romeo  and  Juliet,  As  You  Like  It, 
and  The  Cup  were  to  have  been  played ;  indeed,  we 
did  the  first  of  these  three  on  the  Saturday  night  in 
Manchester,  but  through  circumstances  we  did  not  do 
it  again,  or  either  of  the  other  two,  nor  were  they 
required.  The  tour  was  under  the  management  of 
Abbey,  Schoeffel,  and  Grau.  We  opened  at  Wallack's, 
New  York,  early  in  November.  The  Press  notices  were 
fine  and  the  business  enormous.  The  company  were 
good,  comprising  Mrs.  Billington,  Mrs.  Charles  Calvert, 
J.  G.  Taylor,  John  Maclean,  Herbert  Waring,  George 
Warde,  G.  M.  Yorke,  Arthur  Lewis  and  his  wife  (Zeffie 
Tilbury,  daughter  of  Miss  Lydia  Thompson),  myself, 
and  others.  We  stayed  in  New  York  four  weeks  before 
proceeding  on  the  road.  During  our  time  there  I  made 
a  pilgrimage,  representing  Miss  Anderson,  to  the  un- 
veiling of  the  monument  to  dear  old  John  McCullough 
in  Mount  Moriah  Cemetery  in  the  outskirts  of  Phila- 
delphia.    The  trip  was  arranged  and  piloted  by  poor 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     173 

John's  old  manager,  genial  "  Billy "  Connor,  then 
manager  of  the  St.  James's  Hotel,  New  York.  We  had 
a  special  Pullman ;  lunch  was  served  on  the  way  there, 
and  dinner  on  the  return  journey,  which  occupied  in  all 
about  seven  hours.  I  got  back  only  just  in  time  for 
the  evening  performance.  It  was  a  pleasure,  if  a  sad 
one,  to  pay  a  last  tribute  to  the  memory  of  so  good  a 
fellow.  One  of  the  party  on  that  occasion  was  William 
Winter,  of  the  New  York  Tribune,  who  read  one  of  his 
charming  and  characteristic  appreciations  of  the  dear 
old  comrade  who  rested  there,  which  will  be  found  now 
amongst  his  published  poems. 

During  our  stay  in  New  York  an  American  actor 
named  Louis  Aldrich  started  a  somewhat  wild  move- 
ment which  aimed  at  passing  an  Act  through  Congress 
to  exclude  all  English  actors  from  the  American  stage 
or  to  put  us  on  the  same  basis  as  skilled  labour.  He 
was  desperately  in  earnest  in  collecting  signatures  to 
his  petition,  and  particularly  bitter  in  his  denunciations 
of  Miss  Anderson's  company,  who  were  all  English  at 
the  time.  This  was  the  more  curious  as  he  had  spent 
the  previous  summer  in  London,  where  every  kind  of 
courtesy  was  shown  him  and  he  was  almost  feted.  I 
ventured  to  think  it  a  fit  subject  for  a  joke,  and,  at  the 
instigation  of  some  one  in  authority,  I  wrote  a  column 
which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Herald,  taking  the 
form  of  an  old-time  lampoon.  It  rather  "  touched  the 
spot "  and  secured  for  him  some  little  ridicule,  which 
made  him  specially  angry  with  me,  personally,  though 
we  had  always  been  good  "  pals  "  previously.  One  day 
before  a  lot  of  mutual  acquaintances  he  lost  his  temper 
badly,  and,  advancing  very  rudely  and  threateningly,  he 


174  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

said  ;  "  And  you,  by  gad,  you  !  can't  set  your  foot  on 
our  stage  in  two  years  from  to-day."  I  replied  without 
temper  :  "  My  dear  Louis,  I  have  read  of  a  Uneal  ancestor 
of  yours  who  commanded  the  sun  to  stand  still;  but, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  imagine  it  runs  in  the  family." 
I  am  afraid  this  allusion  to  his  ancestry  was  scarcely 
kind,  but  I  had  received  very  considerable  provocation. 
The  whole  matter  was  eventually  quashed  completely 
by  the  action  of  that  fine  artist  and  gentleman,  Joseph 
Jefferson,  who  denounced  it  roundly,  and  all  the  leading 
actors  of  America,  including  Edwin  Booth,  followed 
suit. 


XX 

After  leaving  New  York  our  progress  through  the 
country  was  everywhere  most  successful.  Business  was 
enormous,  and  we  were  as  happy  a  band  of  comrades 
as  could  be  found.  And  yet  our  contentment  was  to 
have  a  rude  awakening.  After  twenty  weeks  (six 
short  of  the  minimum  length  of  our  contracts),  Miss 
Anderson  was  taken  ill  with  a  nervous  break-down  in 
Washington,  and  was  unable  to  continue  her  engage- 
ment. I  have  never  seen  it  stated  exactly  what  hap- 
pened, or  the  cause  of  it.  Let  me  try  and  supply  the 
information  as  I  observed  it  at  the  time.  There  was  no 
doubt  she  was  greatly  overworked.  We  had  not  a 
properly  efficient  stage  manager  with  us,  and  in  her 
earnest  determination  to  please  the  public  she  was  in 
the  habit  of  attending  most  of  the  rehearsals,  a  labour 
which  she  ought  to  have  been  spared,  and  indeed  kept 
from.  When  we  got  to  St.  Louis,  the  agent-in-advance 
had  some  misunderstanding  with  certain  members  of 
the  Press  about  the  number  of  free  admissions,  and  they 
proceeded  to  "  get  back "  at  him  through  his  star. 
One  of  them,  in  a  cowardly  way,  threw  cold  water  on 
her  religion,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  print  sketches 
of  her  at  confessional.  Now,  no  doubt  could  possibly 
exist   that   Miss   Anderson   was    a   thoroughly    devout 

Catholic,  and  in  her  overwrought,  overworked  nervous 

175 


176    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

condition  this  affected  her  very  keenly.  I  remember 
her  saying  to  me,  with  great  pathos  in  her  tones  and 
almost  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  Barnsey  "  (which  was  her 
own  name  for  me),  "  I  did  think  a  woman  could  have 
her  religion  to  herself  !  " 

From  St.  Louis  we  went  on  to  Louisville,  Kentucky, 
which  was  her  home  city.  There  I  met  that  eccentric 
politician,  Henry  Waterson,  who  was  a  great  power 
all  through  the  Southern  States,  and  in  the  Democratic 
Party,  and  was  once  named  as  Vice-President  of  the 
United  States.  From  Louisville  to  Cincinnati  and  from 
there  to  Washington,  where  we  arrived  on  Sunday  night, 
March  3,  1889,  the  night  before  the  inauguration  of 
President  Harrison.  To  those  who  have  never  been  in 
Washington  on  these  occasions,  what  happens  must 
sound  like  a  fairy  story  or  a  "  tar-i-diddle."  Every 
bed  in  every  hotel  is  taken;  the  theatres,  and  some- 
times even  the  churches  and  chapels  are  utilised,  and 
you  are  lucky  if  you  get  a  bed  at  all.  On  this  occasion 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  truckle  bed  in  a  passage 
in  a  fairly  good  hotel.  The  sight  on  Inauguration  Day 
is  very  striking.  Few  cities  lend  themselves  to  such  a 
display  as  Washington  does.  The  place  is  so  beautifully 
laid  out,  and  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  with  its  magnificent 
width  and  sweep  from  the  Capitol  to  the  White  House, 
is  an  ideal  street  for  a  procession.  On  these  occasions, 
this  procession  extends  for  miles  and  takes  hours  in 
passing.  Numbers  of  United  States  Regiments  of 
soldiery,  and  all  sorts  of  political  and  other  societies  are 
drafted  into  the  city  to  take  part,  and  the  sight  is  a 
grand  one.  On  the  day  that  President  Benjamin 
Harrison  was  installed  it  poured  with  rain  the  livelong 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     177 

day.  It  was  a  veritable  deluge.  Nothing  daunted. 
Miss  Anderson  took  her  place  with  friends  at  some 
point  of  vantage,  where  seats  had  been  secured,  and 
braved  the  elements  for  hours.  She  got  wet  through 
and  took  a  severe  cold,  which  in  her  state  of  health  and 
nerves  seemed  to  fly  to  her  brain  and  render  her  work 
impossible.  She  played  on  Monday  fairly  comfort- 
ably; on  Tuesday,  with  difficulty;  on  Wednesday,  the 
theatre  was  closed;  on  Thursday,  she  made  another 
attempt,  but  the  more  she  tried  to  concentrate  her 
powers  the  more  they  seemed  to  desert  her.  On  Friday 
and  Saturday  no  performance.  Sunday  we  went  on 
to  Baltimore,  hoping  to  play  on  Monday.  It  was 
impossible,  and  on  Tuesday  we  left  for  New  York,  our 
season  being  ended  and  Miss  Mary  Anderson's  brilliant 
professional  career  closed.  She  has  never  played  since. 
Arrived  in  New  York,  the  management  made  equitable 
terms  with  us  for  the  balance  of  our  contracts,  and  the 
whole  thing  was  over.  A  curious  circumstance  was 
that  I,  too,  was  somewhat  dangerously  ill,  and  had  Miss 
Anderson  played  every  night  it  is  doubtful  if  I  could 
have  done  so,  but  I  had  no  need  to  worry  about  it,  as 
no  performances  took  place.  A  serious  case  of  malaria 
which  I  had  contracted  in  Cincinnati  laid  me  very  low. 
I  lost  weight  at  an  alarming  rate,  and  with  two  or  three 
days'  growth  of  beard  was  almost  unrecognisable  at  the 
railway  station  on  the  Sunday.  But  for  the  kind 
nursing  and  attention  given  me  by  a  member  of  the 
company,  Mr.  Rudolph  de  Cordova,  now  an  active 
worker  on  the  London  Press,  I  really  do  not  know  what 
might  have  befallen  me.  When  I  got  to  New  York  my 
doctor  (an  old  Edinburgh  friend)  insisted  that  I  must 

N 


178    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE  STAGE 

remain  under  his  care  at  least  a  month,  and  I  promised 
to  do  so,  but  the  s.s.  New  York  was  saiHng  on  March  20, 
and  knowing  all  the  officers  on  board,  I  took  my  health 
in  my  own  hands  and  sailed  home,  but  I  realised  after- 
wards that  I  had  been  very  unwise.  That  illness,  un- 
cured,  hung  in  my  system  for  a  long  time,  and  years 
afterwards  asserted  itself  in  an  extremely  well-defined 
and  serious  manner.  I  reached  Liverpool  March  28, 
1889. 

Shortly  after  this  Miss  Anderson  married  Mr.  Navarro, 
of  New  York.  She  retired  to  a  picturesque  home  at 
Broadway,  near  the  country  of  the  Shakespeare  she  loved 
so  well,  where  she  has  lived,  practically  ever  since,  the 
life  that  some  of  us  are  old-fashioned  enough  to  think 
the  higher  life  for  a  woman — namely,  that  of  loving  wife 
and  devoted  mother.  One  occasionally  sees  her  in 
London  at  the  theatres,  etc.,  looking  the  picture  of 
health  and  happiness,  and  if  possible  handsomer  in  her 
maturity  than  when  she  was  the  "  observed  of  all 
observers."  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  complimentary 
to  write  than  that  she  is  almost  a  counterpart  of  what 
her  mother  was  when  I  first  saw  her.  Some  three  or 
four  years  after  her  retirement  I  was  passing  through 
New  York  on  my  way  home  from  the  West  and  I  supped 
at  Delmonico's  with  Abbey  and  Schoeffel,  and  they 
entrusted  me  with  a  commission — namely,  if  I  could 
persuade  her  to  come  to  America  for  a  farewell  engage- 
ment of  thirty  weeks  they  would  give  her  £1,000  a  week 
for  her  own  services  and  they  would  make  me  a  present 
of  £1,000  the  day  that  the  contract  was  signed.  On  my 
arrival  in  London  I  saw  Mrs.  Griffin  (her  mother),  who 
was  disposed  to  think  the  offer  ought  to  be  accepted — 


FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     179 

it  was  such  a  lot  of  money  to  earn — but  on  submitting 
it  to  her  daughter  she  was  quite  obdurate  in  her  refusal, 
and  there  the  matter  ended.  The  £1,000,  added  to 
what  I  had,  would  have  enabled  me  to  buy  a  little  home 
at  Teddington  that  I  was  much  attached  to,  but  it  was 
not  to  be,  afid  the  place  went  to  a  luckier  man. 

In  August,  1889,  I  was  engaged  to  play  Pierre  Lorance 
in  a  revival  of  that  fine  play  Proof  at  the  Princess's 
Theatre.  This  is  one  of  the  best-acting  dramas  in 
existence,  splendidly  constructed  and  full  of  human 
nature;  but,  in  my  judgment,  the  version  as  played 
in  England  with  the  above  title  cannot  compare  with 
that  used  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York, 
and  called  The  Celebrated  Case,  which  is  a  literal  transla- 
tion of  the  French  name  {La  Cause  Celebre).  The  play 
did  not  have  a  good  "  send  off  "  in  England.  One  of 
the  leading  characters  was  unfortunately  cast. 

In  the  November  of  1889  I  had  a  unique  experience. 
Brandon  Thomas  had  written  a  play  called  The  Gold 
Craze,  also  produced  at  the  Princess's,  and  I  was  en- 
gaged for  a  part  called  the  Baron  de  Fleurville.  At  this 
time  there  was  a  man  well-known  about  the  West  End 
of  London  who  styled  himself  a  Marquis,  who  was  the 
son  of  a  Dublin  carriage  builder.  What  right  he  had 
to  his  title  was  always  a  matter  of  mystery.  It  was  said 
he  bought  it  of  some  Continental  burgomaster.  I  did 
not  know  him  personally;  in  fact,  I  had  studiously 
avoided  doing  so,  but  nearly  every  mail  brought  me 
information  from  strangers  about  him,  when  the 
following  incident  became  public. 

Brandon  Thomas  knew  him.  I  am  unaware  whether 
he  had  him  in  view  when  he  wrote  the  play;    but  he 


180    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

brought  me  his  photo — as  I  was  informed  at  the  man's 
own  request — and  asked  me  to  make  up  Hke  him.  This 
I  refused  to  do,  but  I  did  adopt,  and  had  specially  made, 
an  extremely  outre  characteristic  style  of  hat  he  wore, 
which  I  thought  would  be  effective  in  the  part.  Hear- 
ing, I  suppose,  that  the  part  was  that  of  a  scoundrelly 
adventurer,  and  very  much  against  the  audience,  he 
arranged  an  organised  opposition  on  the  first  night,  and, 
although  I  fear  the  play  was  not  a  good  one  intrinsically, 
he  and  his  friends  effectually  killed  any  possibility  it 
had,  and  it  was  a  pronounced  failure.  I  was  taken  by 
surprise,  and  I  struggled  through  the  dilemma  as  best  I 
could.  The  management  of  the  theatre,  a  curious  coterie 
at  the  time  (Kelly  had  retired),  prosecuted  him  for  con- 
spiracy, and  after  eight  hearings  at  Marlborough  Street 
Police  Court  he  was  committed  for  trial  at  the  Old 
Bailey.  At  the  trial  the  prosecuting  management,  to 
keep  up  their  eccentric  character,  did  not  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance when  the  case  was  called  on,  and,  of  course,  it 
fell  through.  After  it  had  been  dismissed  one  of  these 
gentlemen  turned  up,  and  appeared  to  be  on  terms  of 
great  friendship  with  the  defendant,  which  was,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  an  unusual  proceeding,  from  which  my 
readers  can  draw  any  conclusion  they  choose.  Although 
only  a  witness,  I  had  found  it  necessary  to  employ  a 
solicitor,  who  in  turn  engaged  a  barrister  to  hold  a 
watching  brief  in  my  behalf,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do 
"  but  pay  and  look  pleasant  " ;  altogether  I  was  very 
glad  when  this  most  unpleasant  incident  was  closed. 

In  December,  1889,  I  was  engaged  by  Robert  Pateman 
to  play,  at  the  same  theatre,  the  part  of  Jim  Burleigh 
in  a  drama  by  G.  R.  Sims  and  Henry  Pettitt  called 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     181 

Master  and  Man.  It  was  a  very  strong,  effective  play, 
and  Pateman  himself  gave  one  of  his  masterly  per- 
formances of  a  rugged  character  part  called  Humpy 
Logan.  Mrs.  Pateman  was  also  in  the  cast,  as  was 
Charles  Dalton,  who  made  therein  his  first  appearance 
in  London,  and  poor  E.  W.  Gardiner  (Miss  Kate  Rorke's 
first  husband),  whose  very  sad  end  was  a  genuine  grief 
to  their  many  friends.  Charles  Dalton  is  now  a  firmly 
established  favourite  on  the  American  stage.  Master 
and  Man  ran  just  three  months.  i\.fter  some  odd  en- 
gagements of  not  much  moment,  on  September  1,  1890, 
I  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  for  a  tour  of  Great  Britain 
and  the  United  States  which  extended  to  thirty-three 
weeks.  We  played  three  weeks  at  home,  and  sailed 
for  New  York  on  September  24  on  the  s.s.  Germanic. 
We  opened  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  that  city 
on  October  13.  I  have  previously  referred  to  the  art 
of  our  managers,  so  it  only  remains  to  say  we  had  a 
really  good  company  and  a  repertory  of  fine  plays. 
We  went  practically  all  over  the  country  east  of  the 
Rockies.  The  Press  were  loud  in  our  praises  everywhere 
and  the  business  was  splendid.  In  the  company  were 
Miss  Bennett,  Miss  Florence  Cowell,  Miss  Violet  Van- 
brugh  (Mrs.  Arthur  Bourchier),  Miss  Campbell,  J.  E. 
Dodson,  Joseph  Carne,  Seymour  Hicks,  Henry  Nye 
Chart,  A.  M.  Dennison,  myself,  and  others.  Among 
the  plays  were  The  Ironmaster,  The  Scrap  of  Payer, 
The  Squire,  The  Queen's  Shilling,  and  a  beautiful  play 
called  The  Weaker  Sex,  by  Pinero.  This  play  had  not 
been  the  success  it  deserved  in  London.  I  could  never 
think  why.  It  was,  perhaps,  a  little  before  its  time. 
I  believe  it  would  be  worth  some  manager's  revival. 


182     FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

It  is  so  human,  dramatic,  and  finely  written.  There 
was  only  one  discordant  note  in  the  tour.  The  business 
manager  was  a  gentleman  who  had  been  an  officer  in  an 
infantry  regiment,  and,  whilst  he  was  presumably  loyal 
to  his  trust,  he  had  no  kind  of  sympathy  with  our  calling, 
and  was  a  positive  adept  at  setting  the  company  "  by 
the  ears  "  and  putting  us  in  a  false  light  with  our 
managers.  He  would,  if  allowed,  treat  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  like  a  lot  of  indifferent  militia  men  at  their 
annual  training.  This  brought  about  many  unpleasant 
incidents  which  might  well  have  been  avoided.  When 
the  time  came  for  us  to  sail  for  home  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kendal  took  passage  on  the  s.s.  Teutonic,  with  one  or 
two  of  the  company  who  chose  to  pay  part  of  the 
passage  money  themselves,  but  the  rest  of  us,  whose 
contracts  all  called  for  "  first-class "  passages,  were 
shipped  by  the  military  gentleman  on  the  s.s.  City  of 
Richmond,  which  at  that  time  was  very  much  of  a  back 
number.  The  accommodation  was  meagre,  the  pro- 
visions poor;  in  short,  a  very  "shoddy"  journey  in 
every  way.  Three  days  out  from  New  York,  in  a  very 
bad  storm  (logged  by  the  captain  "  Strong  gale  from 
the  south-east,"  "  Hurricane  force  "),  a  fire  was  dis- 
covered in  some  bales  of  cotton  in  the  hold.  To  any 
one  who  knows  the  habit  of  sea  captains  in  making  light 
of  bad  weather  it  will  be  patent  that  we  were  in  the 
gravest  peril  indeed.  The  recent  burning  and  loss  of 
life  in  the  case  of  the  s.s.  Vulturno  brought  vividly  to 
my  mind  our  experiences.  It  was  almost  a  replica  of 
our  position,  and  our  fate  might  easily  have  been  the 
same  but  for  our  great  good  luck.  The  fire  was  dis- 
covered about  two  in  the  morning.     My  principal  chum 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     183 

in  the  company,  who  was  also  my  room  mate  (A.  M. 
Dennison),    and    I   dressed   hurriedly   and   sought   the 
captain,    who    was    directing   operations.     The    cotton 
was  well  alight,  and  the  flames  were  quite  fierce  and 
spreading.     It  was  then  discovered  that  the  equipment 
of  the  s.s.  City  of  Richmond  was  as  out  of  date  as  the 
vessel    herself.     The    fire    hose    would    scarcely    carry 
water,  the  leakage  therefrom  rendered  the  deck  ankle- 
deep,    and    the    only    expedient    was,    perhaps,    the 
best    in    case    of    burning    cotton — namely,    to    throw 
volumes  of  steam  into  the  bulkhead  and  hold  where  the 
fire  was  raging.     All  this  time  a  hurricane  was  blowing, 
and  it  is  the  barest  truth  to  say  that  there  would  not 
have  been  a  possibility  of  getting  a  lifeboat  on  to  the 
water  within  the  succeeding  twenty-four  hours.     I  had 
often  wondered  in  my  youth  and  early  manhood  what 
sort  of  a  man  my  big  fearless  father  (described  in  my 
first  pages)  had  for  a  son,  and  what  kind  of  courage  I 
would   have  in   case  of  danger.     Well,   here  was   my 
opportunity  for  a  test,  and  I  may  say  I  came  through 
the  ordeal  to  my  own  satisfaction.     As  we  were  dressing 
Dennison  said  to  me,   "  What  are  you  going  to  do. 
Jack?  "     I  made  the  obvious  reply,  "  What  I  am  told 
to  do,"  with  which  he  acquiesced.     After  we  had  been 
shown  the  danger  we  asked  the  captain  what  he  wished 
from  us.     He  said,  "  Keep  the  women  quiet  and  get 
some  stuff  into  the  lifeboats,"  and  in  a  few  minutes 
"  Denny  "  and  I,  dressed  in  tarpaulins  and  sou'-westers, 
were  handing  provisions  along  the  deck  in  the  dark  to 
the  boats  as  if  we  had  been  used  to  it  all  our  lives.     I 
remember  thinking  once,  and  once  only,  that  if  the  end 
was  coming  it  was  perhaps  as  well  that  way  as  any 


184    FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

other,  and  it  was  no  good  whining  over  it.  It  was 
pouring  with  rain  when  the  morning  broke  over  as 
angry  a  sea  as  could  well  be  imagined,  and  as  soon 
as  any  objects  could  be  discerned  a  small  freight  steamer 
was  seen  some  miles  off.  We  signalled  to  her  our  con- 
dition, and  she  answered  that  "  she  would  stand  by  us." 
She  turned  out  to  be  the  s.s.  Councillor  (I  think  that  was 
the  name),  from  New  Orleans  with  cargo.  It  seemed  a 
sort  of  comfort,  especially  to  the  ladies,  to  be  within 
sight  of  other  human  beings,  though  it  was  not  the 
least  real  good.  As  I  have  said,  any  attempt  to  launch 
a  boat  would  have  been  futile  and  suicidal.  And  so 
we  passed  our  first  day,  the  fire  gaining  ground  per- 
ceptibly. As  the  second  day  wore  on  towards  three 
o'clock,  the  sea  having  moderated  considerably,  the 
Cunard  s.s.  Servia  overhauled  us,  and  in  answer  to  our 
signals  also  agreed  to  stand  by  us,  and  did  so.  On  the 
fourth  day,  as  we  came  up  from  lunch,  the  smoke  of 
another  steamer  was  seen  away  to  the  north-east, 
steaming  west,  and  our  course  was  altered  to  meet  her, 
and  she  was  signalled.  As  was  expected,  she  turned 
out  to  be  the  s.s.  City  of  New  York,  of  our  own  line. 
Then  occurred  a  rather  novel  and  impressive  sight. 
The  sea  by  this  time  was  comparatively  smooth,  and 
these  three  monster  vessels  drew  up  near  to  each  other 
in  mid -ocean,  whilst  boats  were  lowered  and  the  captains 
went  from  one  to  the  other  consulting  as  to  the  best 
course  of  action.  As  the  City  of  New  York  was  carrying 
a  large  consignment  of  mails  it  was  decided  that  it 
would  be  better  for  her  to  proceed  on  her  journey,  and 
the  Servia  undertook  to  see  us  to  the  Fastnet  Lighthouse, 
on  the  south  coast  of  Ireland.     By  this  time  we  had 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     185 

become  quite  accustomed  to  the  presence  of  the  fire, 
which  was  being  kept  in  check  by  the  steam ;  and  when 
we  got  to  Queenstown,  where,  of  course,  many  passengers 
went  ashore,  the  captain  having  said  it  would  do  him  a 
little  good  with  his  proprietors  to  take  as  many  of  his 
passengers  as  possible  to  Liverpool,  Dennison  and  I  at 
once  expressed  our  determination  to  go  all  the  way  with 
him — the  least  we  felt  we  could  do  for  as  brave  a  little 
hero  as  ever  lived.     His  name  was  Redford. 

When  we  arrived  at  Liverpool  the  sides  of  the  ship, 
in  the  sections  where  the  fire  was,  were  thickly  encrusted 
with  charred  salt  from  the  action  of  the  sea  water  dashing 
against  the  hot  metal  of  her  plates,  and  I  was  told  that 
when  she  was  docked  and  opened  up  to  the  air  a  dense 
volume  of  black  smoke  and  dust  rose  to  a  great  height, 
and  part  of  her  deck  caved  in  completely.  That  the 
owners  of  the  vessel  held  much  the  same  opinion  of  her 
as  her  passengers  was  rather  proved  by  the  fact  that 
she  never  sailed  the  Atlantic  again.  After  some  neces- 
sary repairs  she  was  engaged  in  conveying  pleasure 
parties  for  trips  to  the  Norwegian  Fjords,  etc.  In  all 
this  calamity  there  were  elements  of  humour  to  those 
whose  faculties  were  alive  to  them.  Some  considerable 
amusement  was  caused  by  a  fellow-actor  named  Arthur 
Dacre,  who  was  returning  with  his  wife  (Miss  Amy 
Roselle)  after  an  unfortunate  season  in  the  United 
States.  Poor  Dacre  was  a  good  chap  but  an  ultra- 
sentimentalist.  He  ought  to  have  been  a  Frenchman. 
Educated,  and  formerly  practising  as  a  doctor,  he  had, 
presumably,  learnt  the  use  of  drugs,  and  he  had  acquired 
the  habit  pretty  strongly.  Such  an  experience  as  I 
have  described  was  not  to  be  missed  by  one  of  his 


186    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

temperament.  He  appeared  to  be  "  having  the  time 
of  his  life."  He  spent  the  night  of  the  discovery  of  the 
fire  in  a  rather  glaring  suit  of  pyjamas.  I  don't  think  he 
dressed  normally  for  hours.  It  was  he  who  woke  Denni- 
son  and  myself  from  sleep  with  the  fine  melodramatic 
announcement,  "  Now,  then ;  now  you  have  need  of  all 
your  courage  !  "  "  What  is  it,  Arthur  ?  "  said  we.  And 
he  answered,  in  tones  which  would  have  been  an  effective 
curtain  to  any  act  ever  written,  "  Ah  !  ha  !  the  ship's  on 
fire  !  "  Later  on  I  saw  him  rush  up  to  two  3^oung  ladies 
sitting  at  the  top  of  the  companion-way,  and  behaving 
with  perfectly  stoical  calmness,  and  say,  "  For  God's 
sake,  be  calm  !  "  One  of  them  replied,  "  I  don't  know 
if  you  are  aware  of  it,  Mr.  Dacre,  but  my  sister  and 
myself  discovered  this  fire  about  an  hour  ago,  and  you 
must  admit  we  are  not  distressing  any  one  very  much 
with  our  anxiety."  When  matters  had  settled  down 
and  all  were  more  self-possessed  he  spent  the  rest  of  the 
voyage  in  reporting  on  the  progress  of  the  fire,  and  be- 
moaning the  fate  which,  to  his  mind,  had  singled  him 
out  for  special  vindictiveness  by  following  up  his 
professional  ill-luck  with  a  voyage  on  a  burning  ship. 

Another  amusing  thing,  though  not  pleasant,  was 
that  we  were  bringing  to  England  about  14,000  carcasses 
of  beef  in  a  refrigerator  bulkhead.  It  so  happened  that 
this  was  situated  near  the  fire,  and  the  steam  poured  on 
to  the  latter  melted  the  ice  in  the  refrigerator  and  we 
came  up  the  Irish  Channel  leaving  an  odour  behind  us 
which  was  appalling.  One  of  the  ship's  carpenters  who 
was  engaged  in  remedying  the  ventilation  was  so  nearly 
asphyxiated  that  he  was  laid  on  the  deck  quite  un- 
conscious for  nearly  an  hour. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     187 

Poor  Dacre  some  years  afterwards  was  found  with 
his  wife,  both  dead,  in  their  room  in  AustraUa,  where 
ill  luck  seemed  to  have  pursued  them,  and  there  was 
evidence  beside  them  that  they  had  agreed  to  die 
together.  They  were  both  really  nice  people,  and  Miss 
Roselle  was  quite  especially  clever  in  her  profession. 
Let  us  hope  they  found  the  rest  and  peace  they  sought 
with  such  desperate  earnestness.  And  my  great  chum 
Dennison — a  fine  fellow,  true  as  steel,  and  with  the 
best  characteristics  of  an  English  gentleman,  sought 
oblivion,  the  following  year,  in  the  same  dreadful  way, 
during  that  terrible  period  of  delirium  and  depression 
which  appears  to  be  always  a  part  of  convalescence  from 
typhoid  fever.  I  was  frightfully  cut  up  when  the  news 
reached  me. 

For  further  particulars  of  the  City  of  Richmond 
fire,  a  very  full  and  circumstantial  account  will  be 
found  in  Sej^mour  Hicks's  book  of  his  hfe.  There  is 
just  this  trifling  difference  between  us  that  he  was  not 
there  and  I  was.  Verb.  sap.  !  It  is  all  very  amusing 
and  interesting  to  look  back  on,  but  I  shall  always 
feel  we  ought  not  to  have  been  there  at  all,  and  should 
not  have  been  but  for  the  martinet  militarism  of  the 
gentleman  who  was  entrusted  with  the  conduct  of  Mr. 
Kendal's  business.     He  was  on  the  Teutonic  himself  ! 


XXI 

I  ARRIVED  home  in  London  June  13,  1891. 

On  September  16,  1891,  I  set  sail  from  Liverpool  by 
the  s.s.  Britannic  for  New  York,  again,  to  fulfil  one  of 
the  most  delightful  engagements  of  my  career,  with 
the  Jefferson-Florence  comedy  company.  At  this  time 
there  was  a  vogue  in  America  for  the  grouping  of  names 
such  as  the  Booth-Barrett  company,  the  Robson  and 
Crane  company,  and  the  one  I  joined.  I  don't  think  it 
meant  anything  in  our  case.  I  believe  the  entire  invest- 
ment and  profit  were  Jefferson's  ;  but  "  Billy  "  Florence, 
having  been  a  fairly  successful  star  on  his  own  account, 
got  a  good  thumping  salary  to  give  up  his  own  touring 
and  throw  in  his  lot  with  his  older  comrade.  In  addition 
to  these  two  names  there  were  others  almost  equally 
well  known,  and  the  company  partook  of  the  nature 
known  as  an  all-star  one.  Amongst  others,  Mrs.  John 
Drew,  Miss  Viola  Allen,  William  E.  Owen,  George 
Denham,  Mrs.  Rouse,  and  the  writer,  possessed  good 
credentials  with  the  public,  and  all  the  smaller  parts 
were  in  good  hands.  We  only  did  two  plays.  The  Rivals 
and  The  Heir-at-Law,  in  which  I  played  Jack  Absolute 
and  Dick  Dowlas.  The  tour  opened  in  Richmond, 
Virginia,  on  October  5.  In  the  larger  cities  we  stayed  in 
hotels  in  the  usual  way,  but  when  on  the  road  we  travelled 
in  our  own  car  with  two  servants — a  cook  and  waiter — 

188 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     189 

pulling  up  at  the  railway  stations  and  going  to  the 
theatres  for  our  performances,  returning  to  our  car  to 
supper  and  sleep,  and  hitching  on  to  an  available  train 
bound  for  our  next  stopping  place.     The  business  was 
enormous   and   the   performances    were   much   praised 
everywhere.     It  will  be  quite  unnecessary  for  me    to 
attempt  to  extol  the  art  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Three 
continents  set  the  hall-mark  on  his  work.     His  Rip  van 
Winkle,    Caleb    Plummer,    Dr.    Pangloss,    Bob    Acres, 
Salem  Scudder,  Mr.  Golightly,  etc.,  were  world-famous ; 
and  justly  so.     Perhaps  his  Bob  Acres  was  not  quite 
the  character  that  Sheridan  intended  him  to  be.     He  was 
a  mere  gentlemanly  Bob  "Acres  than  is  usually  seen, 
but  it  was  a  most  polished  performance,  and  he  made  it 
very  difficult  for  Jack  Absolute  to  hold  his  accustomed 
place  in  the  play.     Jefferson  was  a  perfectly  delightful 
personality — gentle   and   kindly  to   all.     Few   men   in 
one's  experience  would  have  stood  as  severe  a  test  as 
Jefferson  did.     At  twenty-six  years  of  age  he  was  told 
he  had  one  lung  only,  but  he  didn't  whine  about  it. 
He  left  America  for  Australia  in  1861  in  the  search  of 
health,  and,  happily,  found  it,  as  well  as  fame ;  came  home 
by  way  of  England  in  1865,  where  he  consolidated  his 
reputation  ;  and  at  the  time  I  write  of,  when  he  was  well 
over  sixty,  he  was  not  only  the  most  noted  actor  in  the 
United  States,  but  also  one  of  the  most  worthy  and 
beloved  gentlemen.     He  had  trained  his  mind  to  amuse- 
ments that  his  health  could  compass  ;  he  was  a  beautiful 
painter,  a  reader  of  books,  and  his  summers  were  spent 
fishing  at  his  home  at  Buzzard's  Bay  or  on  his  Canadian 
river  reservation.     He  had  great  force  of  character  and 
a  firm,  strong  will.     Altogether  a  thoroughly  fine  man  ! 


190    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Billy  Florence  was  not  the  equal  of  Jefferson  as  an 
actor,  though  quite  a  good  one,  but  was  a  genial,  good- 
natured  comrade,  who  was  popular  wherever  he  went. 
Unhappily  we  did  not  enjoy  his  cheery  companionship 
long.  He  was  taken  ill  with  what  appeared  to  be  a  very 
bad  cold  in  Philadelphia.  He  braved  it  and  played  up 
to  Saturday,  but  on  Sunday  pneumonia  set  in,  and  he 
became  rapidly  worse.  Jefferson  and  I  called  to  see 
him  at  the  Continental  Hotel  in  the  evening  before 
leaving  for  Buffalo,  and  I  was  shocked  at  his  condition, 
though  Jefferson  (always  optimistic)  did  not  seem  to 
think  his  case  as  serious  as  I  did.  We  got  wires  two  or 
three  times  a  day,  all  of  graver  and  graver  import, 
and  on  the  Thursday  the  poor  fellow  passed  away,  to 
the  great  sorrow  of  all  of  us  and  a  legion  of  other  friends. 

Louis  James,  another  well-known  actor,  and  semi-star 
at  the  time,  took  his  place. 

Mrs.  John  Drew  should  have  a  chapter  to  herself  if 
art  and  humour  ever  deserved  it.  She  was  a  veritable 
tower  of  strength.  It  is  a  common  theory  amongst 
actors  and  even  the  public  that  the  first  performer  you 
see  of  a  great  character  always  remains  in  your  mind  as 
the  best.  I  need  not  say  that  I  have  seen  many  Mrs. 
Malaprops  before  her,  including  Mrs.  Chippendale  (at 
the  Haymarket),  our  great  Mrs.  Stirling,  and  others, 
but  Mrs.  Drew  will  always  stand  out  in  my  memory  as 
by  far  the  best,  and  it  would  not  be  hard  to  convince 
me  that  the  character  has  never  had  a  finer  exponent. 
A  born  humorist,  and  brimming  over  with  human  nature, 
she  was  not  only  a  great  actress,  but  a  wonderful  com- 
panion and  friend,  and  the  chats  over  the  supper-table 
on  our  car  when   we  came  in  from  the  theatres  are 


MRS.    JOHN    DREW    AS    MRS.    MALAPROP 


[To  face  page  1?0 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     191 

amongst  my  most  treasured  remembrances.  A  delight- 
ful little  incident  occurred  at  one  of  our  rehearsals. 
Mrs.  Drew  asked  Jefferson's  permission  to  introduce  a 
bit  of  stage  business  in  one  of  her  scenes  which  she  had 
done  before  and  which  had  proved  effective.  As  stage 
director  he  requested  her  to  show  him  what  it  was,  and 
she  proceeded  to  do  so  with  infinite  art  and  charm. 
When  she  had  finished  Jefferson  said  with  great  hearti- 
ness :  "  By  all  means  do  it,  Mrs.  Drew  !  I  am  sure 
Sheridan  would  have  liked  you  to."  When  I  was  with 
Miss  Neilson  in  1874  at  her  own  theatre  in  Philadelphia, 
her  son,  the  present  popular  John  Drew,  then  quite  a 
young  man,  was  playing  Borachio  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  with  us.  In  one  scene  he  has  to  say,  "  I  tell 
this  tale  vilely."  The  opportunity  was  too  tempting 
to  his  mother.  Sitting  at  the  prompt  table,  she  said 
in  an  undertone,  "  You  do,  my  son,  you  do  !  " 

William  E.  Owen,  our  Sir  Anthony  Absolute  and  Lord 
Duberly,  was  an  admirable  actor — very  much  better 
than  many  with  greater  names.  He  had  made  a  hit 
as  Sir  Toby  Belch  in  Twelfth  Night,  and  his  performances 
with  us  were  good  enough  for  anything.  Miss  Viola 
Allen,  a  delightful  actress  and  charming  young  gentle- 
woman, has  since  become  a  successful  American  star. 
Joseph  Warren  was  Jefferson's  third  son  playing  under 
that  name,  and  a  worthy  son  of  his  worthy  father.  Our 
business  manager  was  Tom  Jefferson  (second  son).  He 
was  full  of  fun  and  humour.  Altogether,  we  were  like 
a  united  happy  family  party. 

Tom  raised  a  great  laugh  at  supper  one  night.  It 
was  at  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  which,  at  that  time,  was 
known  to  harbour  many  desperate  law-breakers.     We 


192  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

had  played  to  an  enormous  house  and  presumably  had 
a  considerable  sum  of  money  on  the  car.  The  conver- 
sation turned  on  the  chances  of  our  being  robbed  as  we 
were  standing  outside  the  railway  station.  After  several 
remarks  had  passed  of  more  or  less  fun  or  anxiety,  our 
business  manager  said  :  "  Well,  if  any  one  holds  me  up 
he'll  get  into  debt." 

We  went  literally  over  all  the  United  States,  travelling 
27,000  miles,  and  we  finished  in  Denver,  Colorado,  March 
26,  1892.  I  came  through  to  New  York,  March  30, 
and  sailed  for  home  on  the  s.s.  City  of  Paris,  April  6, 
arriving  in  London  April  14,  1892.  It  is  a  great  pleasure 
to  me  to  think  I  have  remained  on  terms  of  intimate 
friendship  with  all  Jefferson's  sons  until  to-day,  and  we 
are  the  best  of  chums  wherever  we  meet. 

One  incident  well  worth  recording  occurred  about 
this  time.  Pinero  and  I  had  always  been  good  friends, 
and  more  than  once  he  had  told  me  that  he  had  in  his 
mind  a  part  which  he  thought  would  work  out  strongly 
for  me  when  he  had  perfected  the  story.  Anxious  not 
to  miss  such  a  promising  chance  (when  I  was  going  to 
America  to  join  Jefferson),  I  called  on  him  at  his  house 
in  Hamilton  Terrace  to  say  "  Good-bye  "  and  incident- 
ally to  let  him  know  where  I  could  be  found.  In  the 
course  of  a  pleasant  chat  he  said  :  "I  have  just  come 
back  from  the  country,  where  I  have  finished  a  play  I 
had  to  write.  I  could  not  get  on  with  anything  else 
until  it  was  out  of  the  way.  We  are  going  to  do  it  for 
a  matinSe  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre  and  I  don't  sup- 
pose it  will  ever  be  heard  of  again.  At  all  events,  it  is 
quite  impossible  for  it  to  draw  money."  That  play  was 
The  Second  Mrs.  Tanqueray. 


Photo] 


EDWIN    BOOTH 


[London  Stereoscopic  Co. 


[To  face  page  193 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     193 

During  these  last -mentioned  engagements  I  saw  a 
great  deal  of  Edwin  Booth  when  I  was  in  New  York. 
What  a  sweet,  gentle,  kindly  nature  his  was  !  I  used 
to  have  long  chats  with  him  in  his  room  at  the  Players' 
Club,  which  were  most  enjoyable.  He  had  almost  as 
great  an  admiration  for  Phelps  as  I  had,  and  never 
wearied  of  talking  of  him ;  so  we  were  on  common  and 
sympathetic  ground.  Edwin  Booth  was  another  artist 
and  gentleman  whom  it  was  a  privilege  as  well  as  a  great 
pleasure  to  number  amongst  one's  friends.  He  went 
to  his  long  rest  in  that  same  room,  June  8,  1893. 

When  I  got  home  from  the  Jefferson  tour  I  took  a 
good  holiday  until  December,  when  I  appeared  as 
Captain  Amber  in  a  one-act  play  by  Justin  McCarthy 
at  the  Palace  Theatre  in  London.  This  was  founded 
on  an  incident  in  the  Indian  Mutiny  and  was  called 
The  Round  Tower. 

It  was  a  vividly  dramatic  episode,  and  was,  I  suppose, 
almost  the  first  of  the  now  popular  play-sketches 
attempted  in  a  music  hall.  I  think  that  it  was  well 
played,  but  it  was  perhaps  a  little  before  its  time  as 
an  experiment,  and  was  only  moderately  successful, 
running  but  five  weeks. 

In  the  early  part  of  1893  I  made  my  first  serious 
attempt  at  journalism  with  an  article  descriptive  of 
my  tour  of  the  West,  which  appeared  in  the  London 
Topical  Times.  I  had  previously  scribbled  some  odd 
poems,  etc.,  and  it  was  pleasantly  encouraging  to  find 
my  work  accepted,  paid  for,  and  kindly  received. 
Amongst  other  scraps  were  "  The  Mission  of  Judas," 
"The  Far  West,"  and  "The  Sun-Kissed  Land,"  the 
last  two  written  in  California  and  first  published  there. 


194    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

They  were  impressions  of  the  country  I  travelled  through. 
The  former  appeared  in  the  New  York  Herald  and  the 
Anglo- American  Times,  a  paper  started  in  London  by 
the  Hon.  Francis  Lawley,  who  afterwards  proved  my 
very  good  literary  sponsor  and  friend,  and  helped  me 
not  a  little  in  finding  an  opening  for  my  early  efforts  at 
writing,  for  which,  he  was  good  enough  to  say,  he 
considered  I  had  an  aptitude. 

On  April  8,  1893, 1  left  Southampton  by  the  s.s.  New 
York,  and  arrived  in  New  York  on  April  15,  to  take  part  in 
the  first  production  in  America  of  the  Drury  Lane  drama. 
The  Prodigal  Daughter,  by  Henry  Pettitt  and  Sir  Augustus 
Harris.  With  this  play  the  American  Theatre,  at  the 
corner  of  42nd  Street  and  8th  Avenue,  was  opened 
on  May  22,  1893,  and  it  ran  there  right  away  through 
the  summer  without  intermission  up  to  December 
16  to  very  fine  business,  except  in  the  very  hottest 
weather.  It  was  quite  an  exceptional  cast  that  was 
engaged  for  this  drama  by  Mr.  T.  Henry  French,  includ- 
ing Leonard  Boyne,  Julius  Kjiight,  Charles  Dalton, 
Sidney  Howard,  Jefferson  d'Angelis,  the  writer,  W. 
Winchell  Smith,  Miss  Julia  Arthur,  Miss  Charlotte 
Tittell,  Miss  Helen  Dauvray,  and  others.  After  a  time 
Miss  Arthur  and  Miss  Tittell  left  the  company,  and  they 
were  succeeded  by  Miss  Adelaide  Prince  and  Miss 
Maxine  Elliott.  Many  of  these  names  are  well  and 
favourably  known  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
all  did  good  work  in  the  play  in  question.  But,  oh  ! 
the  heat  at  times  !  I  remember  one  awful  Saturday 
when  we  played  twice,  and  when  (to  quote  the  American 
papers)  "  General  Humidity  was  out  with  all  his  forces." 
I  used  four  shirts  and  ten  collars  in  the  course  of  the 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     195 

day's  work,  and,  even  then,  was  hardly  well-groomed. 
But  this  summer  demonstrated  to  me  a  fact  which  I 
had  often  heard  New  Yorkers  boast  of,  viz.  that  their 
city  is  the  best  seaside  place  in  the  world.     It  is  quite 
wonderful  what  an  innumerable  lot  of  pleasant  resorts 
you  can  get  to,  from  there,  for  a  trifling  fare  such  as 
25  cents  (Is.)  or  50  cents  (25.).     I  cultivated  the  habit 
of  getting  up  early  every  Sunday  morning — no  matter 
how   tired   I  was — and   journeying  to   some   different 
pleasant  place,  where  I  remained  until  Monday  after- 
noon.    Thus  I  explored  any  number  of  delightful  spots 
on  Long  Island,  the  New  Jersey  coast  and  Long  Island 
Sound,  and  got  health  and  change  at  the  same  time. 
Before  leaving  London  I  had  settled  with  Mr.  Frank 
Lawley,  at  his  request,  to  write  a  series  of  articles  on 
New  York  current    events  for   his    paper,  the   Anglo- 
American  Times,  and  he  was  most  encouraging  in  his 
opinion  of  my  work,  which  appeared  regularly,  and  when 
unfortunately  the  paper  died  for  lack  of  support,  he 
passed  my  work  on  to  another  London  journal,  by  which 
it  was  accepted  and  utilised  for  some  time.     One  great 
feature  of  our  play  was  a  stage  reproduction  of  the  race 
for  the  Liverpool  Grand  National,  with  a  good-sized 
water  jump,  over  which  the  horses  used  to  leap  in  full 
view  of  the  audience,  and  a  number  of  coaches,  etc., 
crowded  with  visitors,  watching  the  sport.     It  became 
a  perfect  craze  with  the  best  people  in  the  city  to  form 
a  part  of  this  crowd,  and  our  super-master  made  a  very 
large  addition  to  his  income  by  the  tips  he  got  from  many 
of  New  York's  biggest  swells  for  the  privilege  of  appear- 
ing in  the  scene.     Indeed,  so  much  a  mania  was  it  that 
I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  scribbling  a  few  verses 


196    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

which  I  called  "  The  Society  Supe,"  and  which,  appear- 
ing in  the  Rider  and  Driver  (a  New  York  weekly),  caused 
some  little  amusement.  This  I  followed  with  another 
scrap  entitled,  "  The  Paradox  of  Sport,"  and  the  Neiv 
York  Herald  published  "  The  Far  West  "  and  "  The 
Broken  Melody." 

During  the  summer  of  this  year  (1893)  I  saw  a  great 
deal  of  horse-racing  round  New  York,  and  in  the  autumn 
my  friend  Frank  Lawley  wrote  me  that  if  I  cared  to 
submit  a  short,  comprehensive  resume  of  the  American 
racing  season,  he  thought  he  could  find  a  market  for 
it  in  England.  This  I  did,  and,  to  my  great  satisfaction, 
it  was  published  in  the  December  number  of  Baily^s 
Magazine  of  that  year.  For  my  first  real  sporting 
article  to  find  its  way  into  a  publication  of  the  class  of 
Baily's  was,  I  considered,  a  great  feather  in  my  cap,  and 
it  was  additionally  pleasant  to  find  the  American  papers, 
when  it  reached  New  York,  speaking  of  my  contribution 
in  terms  of  praise,  not  only  as  able  and  correct,  but  as  a 
particularly  fair  and  uninsular  summary  of  the  season's 
sport.  Even  so  distinguished  a  sporting  writer  and 
authority  as  Francis  Trevelyan  (an  Englishman  settled 
in  New  York)  went  out  of  his  way  to  be  most  compli- 
mentary. And  here  I  should  like  to  say  a  few  words 
of  the  great  interest  that  I  have  always  taken  in  racing 
ever  since  I  was  grown  up.  Comic  and  fabulous  stories 
have  reached  me  from  time  to  time  of  my  winnings  and 
losings,  and  how  I  have  sacrificed  my  professional  career 
to  my  hobby.  Let  me  be  perfectly  frank.  I  am  of  a 
methodical  turn  of  mind,  and  I  have  kept  a  fairly  accurate 
account  of  the  cost  of  my  favourite  amusement.  In 
forty-five  years  or  so,  racing  has  cost  me  a  little  less  than 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     197 

£2,000,  i.  e.  less  than  £50  a  year.  I  have  done  little 
or  nothing  at  it  for  years  now,  but  I  could  have  spent 
as  much  in  the  same  time  on  bicycling,  and  much  more 
on  golf.  When  I  put  against  this  account  the  out-of-door 
healthy  excitement  and  the  thoroughly  good  times  I 
have  had,  I  cannot  honestly  say  that  I  regret  a  shilling 
of  the  money,  though  of  course  the  amount  in  question 
is  always  handy,  especially  as  one  advances  in  life.  The 
old  lady  v/ho  was  discovered  kissing  her  cow  explained 
the  unusual  proceeding  by  saying,  "  There  is  no  account- 
ing for  taste,"  and,  although  I  have  lost  no  jot  of  my 
enthusiasm  for  a  well-played  good  play,  I  must  frankly 
admit  that  I  would  rather  have  seen  Ormonde,  Minting, 
and  Bendigo  fight  out  the  Hardwicke  Stakes  at  Ascot 
(as  I  did)  than  most  of  the  murderous  assaults  on  a  great 
man's  work  which  in  recent  years  have  been  called 
Shakespearean  revivals,  and  I  would  much  prefer  to 
have  witnessed  the  battle  royal  between  Le  Blizon  and 
Sundridge  at  Hurst  Park  than  a  whole  year's  aggregation 
of  morbid,  sordid  problem  plays  such  as  are  advocated 
by  some  people  nowadays,  and  which  are  merely  nauseat- 
ing to  healthy-minded  men  and  women,  young  and  old, 
and  keep  them  away  from  the  theatre. 

Amongst  prominent  racing  people  that  I  have  known 
fairly  intimately  are  :  Owners — Robert  Peck,  Captain 
Machell,  Mr.  Redfern,  Lord  Lonsdale,  Arthur  Cooper, 
and  C.  E.  Howard.  Trainers — C.  Jousiffe,  Joseph 
Cannon,  Charles  Morton.  Jockeys — Archer,  T.  Cannon, 
"Morny"  Cannon,  Fred  Webb,  C.  Wood,  S.  Loates, 
Tod  Sloan ;  and  members  of  the  Ring — Charles  Head, 
W.  D.  Foster,  George  Silke,  R.  II.  Fry ;  and,  in  America, 
J.  R.  Keene,  Foxhall  Keene,  Richard  Croker,  "  Lucky  " 


198    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

Baldwin,  W.  Easton,  Charles  Reed,  James  Rowe,  W. 
Lakeland,  James  McLaughlin,  Fred  Taral,  Francis 
Trevelyan,  and  many  others.  From  one  and  all  I  have 
received  marks  of  friendship,  and  have  spent  many 
happy  hours  with  them.  My  carefully  considered  opinion 
is  that  many  racing  men  in  all  branches  of  the  sport 
compare  favourably  with  any  other  class  that  I  have 
ever  been  brought  in  contact  with.  Before  leaving  this 
subject,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  some  readers  to  mention 
an  incident  which  occurred  during  my  stay  in  New  York 
— namely,  the  dramatic  sale  of  St.  Blaise.  To  many  of 
those  who  were  at  all  "  behind  the  scenes  "  this  horse 
was  regarded  as  one  of  the  luckiest  winners  of  the  English 
Derby  (1883).  For  some  reason,  which  I  have  forgotten, 
he  was  sent  out  to  New  York  to  be  sold  when  he  was 
thirteen  years  old.  Speculation  was  rife  for  weeks  as 
to  what  price  he  would  bring,  and  many  prominent 
owners  and  breeders  were  mentioned  as  determined 
to  secure  him.  The  sale  took  place  at  Tattersall's 
of  New  York,  one  evening  after  dinner,  and  round  the 
sale  ring  were  gathered  many  of  the  prominent  sportsmen 
of  the  country,  in  evening  dress  and  otherwise,  with 
quite  a  number  of  ladies  of  the  "  Four  Hundred  "  of 
the  city.  W.  Easton  ("Billy"),  the  best  horse  auc- 
tioneer I  ever  saw,  courteous  and  well  bred,  mounted 
the  rostrum,  and  after  the  usual  remarks  and  giving 
the  animal's  pedigree,  he  said,  "  What  price  shall  I  say 
for  St.  Blaise  ?  "  "  Like  a  bolt  from  the  blue  "  came 
the  voice  of  Charles  Reed,  the  famous  Kentucky  breeder, 
"  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  !  "  (£20,000).  There 
was  no  higher  bid,  and  St.  Blaise  had  become  the  property 
of  a  new  owner  in  less  than  two  minutes  !     The  price 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     199 

seemed  a  large  one  for  a  horse  of  his  age,  who  might  be 
considered  to  have  seen  some  of  his  best  days,  but  Reed's 
judgment  soon  received  ample  endorsement.  St.  Blaise 
sired  many  notable  winners,  and  many  of  his  progeny 
took  high  rank  amongst  the  best-class  racehorses  of 
the  United  States. 

Harking  back  to  The  Prodigal  Daughter,  after  the 
great  success  in  New  York  we  naturally  looked  forward 
to  a  very  successful  tour  through  the  country — but, 
strange  to  say,  though  the  business  was  good,  it  was  not 
enormous,  nor  indeed  as  good  as  was  expected.  We 
started  in  Harlem,  followed  by  Brooklyn ;  and  then 
we  were  met  with  a  "  facer  "  by  the  burning  of  the 
Globe,  Boston,  where  we  were  due  for  the  third  week, 
which  caused  us  a  three  weeks'  lay  off.  The  Globe, 
Boston,  was  managed  by  a  gentleman  named  John  B. 
Stetson,  quite  one  of  the  "  characters  "  of  that  day. 
Mr.  Stetson  had  made  a  great  deal  of  money  as  the 
proprietor  of  many  pawnshops.  How  and  why  he 
entered  the  theatrical  arena  I  know  not,  but  he  loomed 
up  quite  large  in  dramatic  matters,  and  had  several 
theatres  as  well  as  companies  under  his  control.  Some 
of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  operas  were  first  produced  in 
America  by  him.  He  had  not  had  many  of  the  advan- 
tages of  education,  and  some  of  his  lapses  were  worthy  of 
Mrs.  Malaprop  herself.  Once  after  a  sea  voyage,  when 
he  had  suffered  a  great  deal,  on  setting  foot  on  the  New 
York  landing-stage  he  said,  "  Ah  !  thank  God  !  once 
more  on  terra  cotta  !  "  But  perhaps  his  finest  effort 
was  at  Booth's  Theatre  (then  under  his  management). 
A  Passion  Play  was  being  rehearsed,  and  he  sailed  down 
the  parquette  (the  equivalent  of  our  stalls)  and  said 


200    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

to  the  stage  manager,  "  Who  are  them  fellows  on  the 
stage  now  ?  "     Reply  :    "  Those,  Mr.  Stetson,  are  the 

Twelve  Apostles  !  "  John  B.  S.  :   "  The  d 1 !  What's 

the  good  of  twelve  on  a  stage  this  size  ?     Have  fifty." 

When  our  tour  recommenced  we  went  pretty  nearly 
everywhere,  finishing  up  at  Boston  on  April  28, 1894,  and 
I  sailed  for  home  on  the  s.s.  New  York  on  May  9,  and 
arrived  at  Southampton  on  May  16. 

During  the  tour  I  wrote  for  Miss  Kate  Field's  Washing- 
ton, at  her  suggestion,  an  article  on  Samuel  Phelps,  which 
was  pretty  extensively  quoted  in  the  Boston  Transcript 
and  several  papers  elsewhere. 


XXII 

When  I  got  home  I  intended  taking  a  long  rest,  but 
almost  as  soon  as  I  landed  I  received  a  cable  from  Joseph 
Brooks,  one  of  my  old  managers,  offering  me  terms  I 
could  not  afford  to  refuse,  for  a  summer  season  at 
McVickar's,  Chicago;  and  after  just  seventeen  days  in 
England  I  left  Southampton  by  the  s.s.  Chester  on  June 
3,  arrived  in  New  York  June  13,  left  for  Chicago  June 
23,  and  after  rehearsals,  began  the  engagement  on  July 
2,  1894,  in  a  play  by  Francis  Reinau,  entitled.  An 
American  Heiress,  which  proved  to  be  worthless.  This 
was  followed  on  July  26  by  a  comedy  by  the  brilliant 
American  dramatist  Augustus  Thomas,  entitled,  New 
Blood.  Although  Mr.  Thomas  had  (and  has  since) 
written  many  admirable  plays,  this  did  not  turn  out 
one  of  his  best.  It  would  be  well  described  as  slightly 
"  sketchy,"  and  was  only  moderately  successful.  It 
failed  badly  when  subsequently  tried  in  New  York. 
Both  plays  were  splendidly  cast  and  played.  Looking 
back  on  the  names  of  the  company  engaged  they  read 
almost  like  a  list  of  stars.  Many  of  them  have  since 
become  so.  Couldock,  E.  M.  Holland,  Wilton  Lackaye, 
Maurice  Barrymore,  George  Nash,  J.  F.  Saville,  J.  H. 
Barnes,  Orris  Johnson,  Roy  Fairchild,  Ffolliott  Paget, 
Anne  O'Neill,  Gladys  Wallis,  Lilian  Lawrence,  Jennie 
Eustace,    and    many    others,  constituted    a    company 

201 


202     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

formidable  and  forceful  enough  for  anything.  But  the 
business  was  only  fair,  and  the  season  ended  on  Septem- 
ber 8.  Several  of  my  scraps  of  poems  were  published 
in  the  Chicago  papers  during  my  stay  there.  Arriving 
in  New  York,  on  my  way  home,  on  September  10,  I 
was  pounced  on  by  Marcus  Mayer,  who  insisted  on  engag- 
ing me  for  Augustin  Daly  to  support  Miss  Olga  Nether- 
sole  in  her  first  appearance  in  the  United  States.  This 
lady  opened  at  Wallack's  on  October  15  in  A.  W.  Gattie's 
play  The  Transgressor,  which  proved  disappointing. 
On  October  29  Miss  Nethersole  played  Camille  for  the 
first  time.  She  gave  an  admirable  performance  of  this 
well-known  part.  Barrymore  played  Armand  Duval 
excellently,  and  I  was  extraordinarily  fortunate  as 
Duval  p^re.  All  the  parts  were  in  strong  hands,  and 
business  improved  materially.  After  New  York  we 
went  to  Philadelphia,  where  we  played  Camille,  The 
Transgressor,  and  where  Miss  Nethersole  played  Juliet 
for  the  first  time  to  the  Romeo  of  Maurice  Barrymore. 
In  this  production  I  played  Friar  Laurence.  I  am  afraid 
that  I  had  been  spoiled  by  the  performances  of  some 
former  Juliets,  and  this  one  did  not  greatly  impress  me. 
From  Philadelphia  we  went  to  Pittsburgh,  where  we 
played  the  same  bills.  By  this  time  I  was  longing  to 
get  home,  and  as  I  was  not  particularly  happy  in  the 
engagement,  I  gave  in  my  resignation,  and  left  the  com- 
pany on  December  1,  coming  through  to  New  York, 
and  sailing  for  home  on  the  s.s.  New  York  on  December 
12,  arriving  on  December  20  in  time  for  Christmas. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Miss  Nethersole  was  then  on 
the  road  to  positive  greatness.  I  had  seen  her  play 
the  Countess  Zicka  {Diplomacy)  under  the  strong  stage- 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     203 

management  of  John  Hare  at  the  Garrick,  and  I  con- 
sider her  much  the  best  performer  of  the  part  that  I  have 
seen  up  to  this  day,  and  her  Camille  was  at  first  a  splendid 
portrayal.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  her  and 
her  art  later  on. 

This  engagement  was  the  last  time  I  played  with 
Barrymore,  whom  I  had  known,  as  previously  stated, 
under  his  own  name  of  Blythe  before,  and  at  the  time 
of  his  first  appearance  on  the  stage.  He  was  quite 
an  extraordinary  character,  a  Bohemian  of  the  most 
pronounced  type.  As  a  young  man  he  won  the  light- 
weight, middle-weight,  and  heavy-weight  boxing  cham- 
pionship of  England  (Queensberry  Rules)  in  three  con- 
secutive years.  He  became  quite  a  good  actor,  wrote 
several  capital  plays,  and  had  a  ready  wit  of  the  first 
order.  During  our  engagement  in  Philadelphia,  one 
night  at  the  Press  Club  a  fellow-countryman  of  ours 
who  had  "  looked  on  the  wine  when  it  was  red  "  was 
boring  and  upsetting  us  by  making  silly  and  almost 
offensive  comparisons  between  the  two  countries,  to  the 
annoyance  of  our  kindly  hosts.  After  having  shown 
him  more  than  once  that  we  were  not  inclined  to  agree 
with  him,  he  suddenly  turned  to  "  Barry  "  and  said  : 
"  Why,  hang  it,  Barry,  they  can't  spell  in  this  country, 
can  they?  They  spell  honour  h-o-n-o-r,  and  labour 
1-a-b-o-r,  don't  they?"  In  a  flash  "Barry"  replied, 
"  Of  course,  old  man,  when  they  are  talking  about  labour 
and  honour  they  leave  ijou  out  of  the  question."  During 
one  of  his  later  visits  to  England  he  adapted  a  play  from 
the  French,  which  was  accepted  and  produced  by  John 
Clayton  at  the  old  Court  under  the  title  of  Honour. 
When  the  east  was  being  discussed  Clayton  said  to  him, 


204     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

"  My  dear  Barry,  I  should  awfully  like  you  to  play  the 

part  of ,  but  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,  with  your 

American  accent  it  is  quite  impossible."  Barry  thought 
for  a  moment  and  replied,  "  This  is  funny  !  When  I  am 
in  America  I  am  twitted  wdth  my  English  accent.  Now 
I'm  in  England  my  American  accent  is  considered  an 
obstacle.  Hang  it  all,  I  can't  get  my  living  reciting 
on  the  Atlantic."  A  play  of  his  called  Nadjeska  only 
just  missed  being  a  great  success  at  the  Haymarket. 
His  wife  ("  Georgie  "  Drew)  played  one  of  the  principal 
parts.  One  of  the  quips  therein  provoked  a  roar  of 
laughter  on  the  first  and  every  night.  In  a  comedy 
scene  Mrs.  Barrymore  said  to  a  gentleman  who  was 
paying  her  marked  attention,  "  Are  your  intentions 
honourable  ?  "  He  replied,  "  Am  I  to  understand  that 
I  have  the  choice  ?  " 

Nadjeska  was  the  play  that  "  Barry  "  always  claimed 
was  the  original  of  Sardou's  La  Tosca.  A  heated  con- 
troversy took  place  in  a  Parisian  newspaper  (if  my 
memory  serves  me,  Le  Figaro)  between  Sarah  Bernhardt 
and  him  at  the  time  of  the  production  of  the  latter  play 
as  to  the  fact,  and  finally  the  great  Sarah  wrote  denying 
all  knowledge  of  Barrymore  or  his  play.  In  a  reply  of 
biting  sarcasm,  such  as  he  was  master  of,  he  stated  that 
he  handed  his  MS.  to  her  at  the  supper- table  of,  and  in 
the  presence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  E.  Abbey.  I  know 
nothing  of  the  merits  of  the  case.  I  merely  state  what 
came  out  in  the  correspondence.  Undoubtedly,  though, 
there  was  a  tremendous  similarity  in  the  story  of  the 
two  plays.  About  this  time  I  placed  some  plays  for 
performance.  I  had  previously  brought  a  comedy 
called  Incog,  from  the  U.S.,  which  was  produced  by 


P?iolo] 


Turner  tiitd  Drinkwater 
J.    H.    BARNES    AS    MICHAEL    DENNIS 

("  Her  Advocate") 


[To  lace  page  205 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     205 

Charles  Haw  trey  under  the  title  of  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry. 
It  did  not  make  much  money  in  London,  but  was  a 
success  for  years  in  the  provinces,  and  was  the  basis 
of  the  career  and  fortune  of  the  present  successful 
manager,  Frank  Curzon.  Miss  Rose  Coghlan  produced 
in  New  York  a  play  called  Nemesis,  by  the  same  authoress, 
Mrs.  Romualdo  Pacheco,  by  my  advice.  It  was  com- 
pletely spoiled  by  insufficient  rehearsal,  and  failed 
badly.  Edward  Terry  accepted  from  me  a  comedy  by 
Walter  S.  Craven,  entitled  An  Innocent  Abroad,  which 
was  successful,  and  remained  in  his  repertory  to  the 
end  of  his  life.  Another  play  by  Craven,  called  A  Cruel 
Law,  was  secured  by  Henry  Dana,  and  tried  tentatively, 
with  success,  though  not  proceeded  with  for  outside 
reasons.  A  farce-comedy  by  Barrymore,  Blood  Will  Tell, 
was  retained  by  option  by  W.  S.  Penley,  and  afterwards 
by  Messrs.  Greet  and  Engelbach,  but  never  produced 
up  to  now.  Finally,  I  was  the  means  of  bringing  Mrs. 
Madeleine  Lucette  Ryley  before  the  London  public, 
through  the  medium  of  the  comedy  Christopher,  Junior, 
which  was  secured  by  W.  S.  Penley,  and  afterwards 
transferred  to  Fred  Kerr,  who  produced  it  at  Terry's, 
under  the  title  of  Jedhury,  Junior.  Mrs.  Ryley  had 
very  considerable  success  with  subsequent  plays,  includ- 
ing Mice  and  Men,  produced  by  Forbes  Robertson. 

After  my  return  home  I  did  nothing  except  a  few  odd 
weeks  until  September  26,  1895,  when  I  appeared  in  a 
play  called  Her  Advocate,  by  Walter  Frith,  at  the  Duke 
of  York's.  In  this  I  had  my  first  chance  as  an  Irishman 
in  London.  It  was  only  a  small  part,  but  a  delightful 
one,  named  Michael  Dennis,  a  briefless  barrister,  who 
described  himself  in  the  line   "  O'im  the  last  o'  the 


206  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Juniors  and  O'im  sixty  in  May."  I  was  most  fortunate 
in  pleasing  the  Press  and  the  public  and  got  some 
excellent  notices,  and  even  such  a  stickler  for  the  brogue 
as  Lord  Donoughmore  was  loud  in  my  praises  on  that 
score.  The  play,  however,  was  not  a  great  success, 
though  many  good  artists  were  in  it,  including  Misses 
Gertrude  Kingston,  Lena  Ashwell,  Henrietta  Watson, 
Messrs.  Charles  Cartwright,  C.  W.  Somerset,  F.  Volpe, 
A.  Holmes-Gore,  and  others.  In  October,  1895,  I  went 
round  the  corner  and  joined  E.  S.  Willard  at  the  Garrick 
in  a  play  by  Jerome  K.  Jerome,  entitled  The  Rise  of  Dick 
Halward,  played  by  a  very  strong  cast,  including 
Willard,  Marion  Terry,  H.  V.  Esmond,  Annie  Hughes, 
etc.,  but,  unfortunately,  not  successful,  and  in  The 
Professor'' s  Love  Story ^  by  J.  M.  Barrie,  revived  in  Novem- 
ber, I  played  a  full  Scottish  part.  Renders.  In  both 
these  plays  I  got  splendid  notices,  and  it  was  curious 
that  I  should  have  played  an  Irish  and  Scottish  part 
in  London  within  two  months  of  each  other.  Apropos 
of  this  fact,  my  experience  teaches  me  that  the  faculty 
for  brogues  and  dialects  is  a  thing  to  be  grateful  for 
and  not  egotistical  about.  I  have  played  Irish  parts  in 
Dublin,  Scottish  parts  in  Edinburgh,  and  Yorkshire 
and  Lancashire  parts  in  the  North  of  England,  and  all 
without  any  special  application,  and  I  have  known 
artists  of  much  greater  standing  than  myself  who  could 
never  simulate  any  kind  of  dialect  at  all.  It  seems  to 
me  that  it  is  just  the  same  as  an  ear  for  music.  You  have 
it  or  you  haven't — and  if  you  have,  a  short  sojourn 
amongst  people  of  a  different  district  and  the  ear  catches 
the  fall  of  the  vowels  and  consonants,  and  you  find 
yourself  speaking  like  those  around  you.     In  The  Pro- 


Photo] 


J.    H.    BARNES    AS    RENDERS 

("Professoi's  Love  Story") 


[Alfred  Elli» 


[To  lace  page  20& 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     207 

jessofs  Love  Storij  appeared  Willarcl,  Annie  Hughes, 
Fred  Tyler,  Mrs.  Canninge,  and  others.  A  curious  fact 
in  connection  with  this  play  is  that  the  three  Scottish 
parts  which  cause  so  much  amusement — viz.  Pete, 
Renders,  and  Effie — are  so  far  away  from  the  main 
story  that  with  the  alteration  of  one  line  they  could 
be  taken  out  bodily  without  affecting  the  dramatic 
interest  of  the  play.  A  very  Scottish  custodian  of  a 
library  near  the  theatre  offered  to  make  a  wager  not 
only  that  I  was  a  Scot,  but  that  he  could  tell  the  part 
of  Scotland  I  came  from,  and  he  named  Arbroath. 
This  engagement  carried  me  up  to  March  7,  1896, 
and  I  was  cast  in  the  play  which  followed — the  comedy 
by  Henry  Arthur  Jones,  The  Rogue's  Comedy — but  the 
part  was  one  I  felt  my  personality  entirely  unsuited  to. 
Whilst  I  was  hesitating  I  got  an  offer  for  something  I 
much  preferred,  and  Willard  generously  released  me 
from  my  contract.  The  offer  in  question  was  to  play 
in  that  delightful  comedy,  Rosemary,  by  L.  N.  Parker 
and  Murray  Carson,  produced  at  the  Criterion,  May  16, 
1896,  which  made  a  pronounced  hit,  and  was  declared 
one  of  the  most  charming  plays  seen  in  London  for  many 
years.  The  cast  was  a  comparatively  small  one,  and 
practically  every  one  of  us  scored  a  success,  but  what 
was  not  generally  known  then,  and  is  perhaps  stated  here 
for  the  first  time,  is  that  four  of  those  parts  were  played 
by  artists  not  originally  chosen  for  their  portrayal. 
Thus,  my  old  friend,  Alfred  Bishop,  rehearsed  Professor 
Jogram  and  gave  it  up,  finding  a  difficulty  in  reconciling 
the  two  different  characteristics  of  the  part.  Then  it 
fell  to  me.  Bishop  then  rehearsed  the  post-boy  Minifie, 
and  Edward  Righton,   Captain   Cruikshank.     Righton 


208     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

was  suffering  from  the  acute  asthma  from  which  he 
never  really  recovered,  which  increased  so  distressingly 
that  he  was  forced  to  retire  from  the  cast,  and  Bishop 
took  his  place,  James  Welch  was  engaged  for  Minifie. 
A  young  lady  whose  name  I  have  forgotten  rehearsed 
Priscilla,  but  was  found  unsuitable,  and  Miss  Annie 
Hughes  stepped  into  her  place.  All  four  of  these  parts 
became  good  features  of  a  notable  success.  Charles 
Wyndham  (he  was  not  Sir  Charles  in  those  days)  played 
splendidly  as  Sir  Jasper  Thorndyke,  an  easy,  graceful, 
humorous  performance  of  the  highest  class.  Perhaps 
in  the  last  act,  which  is  a  monologue  where  Sir  Jasper 
is  supposed  to  be  a  nonagenarian,  he  was  not  quite 
so  effective,  but  that  was  as  much  due  to  the  authors 
as  the  artists.  Many  good  judges  considered  that  it 
would  have  been  better  if  some  of  the  other  characters 
had  lived  to  keep  Sir  Jasper  company,  and  I  rather  agree 
with  them.  Indeed,  I  have  been  told  that  if  the  play 
is  ever  revived  that  will  be  found  to  have  been  done. 
I  have  no  means  of  knowing  if  this  information  is  correct. 
Miss  Mary  Moore  has  rarely  played  more  daintily  or 
sweetly  than  as  Dorothy  Cruikshank.  Kenneth  Douglas 
was  quite  admirable  as  William  Westwood,  the  impulsive 
and  perky  young  lover;  and  there  was  only  one  word 
for  Miss  Carlotta  Addison  as  Mrs.  Cruikshank — she  was 
perfect.  Altogether  it  was  a  signally  happy  stage  event. 
The  play  ran  till  July  25,  was  suspended  for  the  hot 
weather,  was  revived  on  October  6,  and  ran  until  Boxing 
Night,  December  26 ;  run  again,  suspended  for  Christmas 
holidays,  revived  February  13,  1897,  and  went  on 
until  March  20.  It  also  made  a  great  success  in  New 
York.     One  amusing  incident  occurred  to  me.     At  that 


FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  209 

time  I  had  a  very  dear  friend,  manager  of  a  branch  bank. 
He  was  a  good  theatre-goer,  a  great  wit,  and  a  loyal  and 
amusing  companion.  He  was  also  a  great  Phclpsite, 
having  seen  nearly  all  the  grand  old  man's  performances 
for  years.  About  the  time  Rosemary  was  nearing  the 
end  of  its  run  he  came  to  see  it,  and  we  supped  together 
afterwards.  Beyond  a  general  appreciation  of  the  play 
and  the  acting,  he  did  not  say  much,  and  I  did  not  seek 
his  opinion,  knowing  that  I  should  be  sure  to  get  it  in 
his  own  humorous  way.  Whilst  smoking  a  cigar  later 
on  he  suddenly  roused  himself  and  said  :  "  Jack  !  I 
shouldn't  have  thought  one  actor  could  recollect  as 
much  of  another  as  you  do  of  the  old  man."  And  so  it 
was.  Professor  Jogram,  in  one  scene,  was  as  near  as  I 
could  make  it  a  reproduction  of  one  of  my  old  patron's 
great  performances,  and  my  friend  was  the  only  one  of 
all  London  to  "  spot  "  it.  I  suppose  some  men  might 
have  been  annoyed.  I  was  delighted.  I  have  always 
held  the  theory  that  the  great  traditions  of  our  difficult 
art  are  always  worth  considering,  as  much  as  the  works 
of  the  Old  Masters  are  considered  a  fitting  study, 
and  an  almost  indispensable  part  of,  the  education  of  a 
would-be  painter. 


XXIII 

During  the  summer  break  in  the  run  of  Rosemary 
(September  1896),  I  was  engaged  to  star  conjointly 
with  Miss  Bella  Pateman  for  two  weeks  at  the  Elephant 
and  Castle,  in  Proof.  We  did  capital  business,  and 
apparently  pleased  our  audiences  immensely,  but  it  was 
rather  disheartening  on  more  than  one  occasion  to  find 
ourselves  playing  second  to  a  "  harmless  necessary  cat." 
It  appeared  the  theatre  was  over-run  with  rats,  and  this 
cat  was  kept  with  a  view  to  their  repression  or  exter- 
mination. Twice  during  our  engagement,  as  a  re- 
laxation from  his  own  profession,  he  chose  to  take  a 
hand  in  ours.  He  advanced  from  the  first  entrance, 
walked  deliberately  to  the  middle  of  the  stage,  at  the 
footlights,  and  there  sat  down  and  proceeded  to  wash 
his  face  in  the  approved  manner  of  his  tribe.  Of  course, 
no  theatrical  art  could  stand  such  opposition  as  this, 
and  we  played  a  distinct  "  second  fiddle." 

Just  before  I  joined  the  stage  there  were  several 
animal  dramas  extant.  Dramas  to  exploit  performing 
lions,  bears,  and  dogs,  such  as  The  Dog  of  Montargis, 
The  Forest  of  Bondy,  etc.  I  suggested  to  the  manager 
of  the  theatre  (Mr.  D'Estarre)  that  he  should  have  a 
play  written  for  and  round  this  particular  cat,  who  had 
already  solved  one  important  phase  of  our  art,  viz. 
perfect  self-possession.     Maurice   Barrymore  once   de- 

210 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE    211 

scribed  a  certain  American  artist  as  an  actor  "  who  be- 
lieved in  God  and  the  centre  of  the  stage."     If  my  sug- 
gestion  had   been   followed   I  fear  the   Elephant   and 
Castle  cat  would  have  been  known  as  a  very  "  selfish 
star."     At  the  Christmas  break  in  Rosemary  we  revived 
at  the  Criterion  the  comedy  Betsy,  which  had  first  been 
produced  at  that  theatre,  with  a  strong  cast,  including 
Alfred     Bishop,     James     Welch,     Aubrey    Boucicault, 
Kenneth  Douglas,   Miss  Annie  Hughes,   Miss   Carlotta 
Addison,  Miss  Sybil  Carlisle  and  others.     It  is  a  scream- 
ing farcical  comedy,  which  went  with  a  roar  of  laughter 
from    end    to    end    and    played   to   good    business.     I 
played    another    Irishman,    Captain    McManus.     I   re- 
member in  connection  with  this  production  we  were 
terribly  upset  one  night  by  two  disorderly  men  and  two 
ill -behaved  ladies  in  a  private  box,   who   were   talking 
at  the  top  of  their  voices  and  making  such  a  noise  that 
it  was  almost  impossible  for  us  to  play  our  scenes,  and 
the   audience    expressed   annoyance    more   than    once. 
During  the  second  act  the  ladies  of  the  company  became 
quite  disconcerted,  and  there  was  no  alternative  but  to 
try    to    stop   it.     Advancing  to   the   box   I   markedly 
addressed  one  of  the  gentlemen  thus  :  "  Excuse  me,  sir, 
but  I  think  at  the  present  moment  the  audience  would 
rather  hear  me  than  you."     There  was  a  big  round  of 
applause  from  the  audience,  and  the  nuisance  ceased. 
At  the  end  of  the  act  the  principal  offender  and  his 
friends  felt  it  convenient  to  leave  the  theatre,  and,  as  John 
Coleman  once  said,  under  similar  circumstances,  "  we 
thought  ourselves  well  rid  of  a  knave." 

The  year  1896,  though  successful  and  pleasant,  pro- 
fessionally, was,  perhaps,  the  saddest  in  all  my  manhood. 


212    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Through  circumstances  of  almost  unparalleled  treachery, 
I  suffered  a  terrible  domestic  affliction.  With  my  old 
world  view  of  life  and  its  responsibilities,  it  might  have 
completely  overwhelmed  me,  but  that  my  trouble  showed 
me  the  number  of  good  friends  I  had,  who,  by  their 
consideration  and  sympathy,  helped  me  to  bear  and 
finally  recover  from  the  blow  that  I  had  suffered.  It 
is  true  that  this  very  grief  brought  in  its  train  a  great 
deal  of  compensating  happiness,  but  it  also  left  in  its 
wake  one  deep  scar,  which  will  probably  outlive  me, 
and  that,  in  the  case  of  those  dear  to  us,  is  a  tragedy 
more  dread  even  than  losing  them.  But  iron  is  hardened 
and  toughened  by  blows ;  and  the  care  of  the  afflicted, 
like  that  of  children,  can  become  so  humanising  as  to 
amount  to  a  tender  charge,  which  we  bear  with  forti- 
tude if  we  have  got  the  right  sort  of  grit  in  our  natures. 
After  two  or  three  odd  engagements,  in  the  early 
summer  of  1897  I  was  retained  by  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree 
for  a  play  which  was  abandoned  after  two  or  three  re- 
hearsals, and,  in  place  of  it,  I  played  Taffy  in  Trilby  and 
Allan  Villiers  in  The  Red  Lamp,  in  revivals  of  those 
plays  at  Her  Majesty's.  I  need  not  dwell  on  the 
manager's  great  performances  of  Svengali  and  Deme- 
trius. They  have  been  fully  recognised  by  the  Press 
and  the  public,  and  they  were  amongst  those  artistic 
triumphs  which  helped  him  to  the  very  front  rank  of 
character  actors.  Amongst  the  strong  company  at 
Her  Majesty's  were  IMi's.  (now  Lady)  Tree;  that  popular 
comedian,  Lionel  Brough;  the  present  successful 
manager  and  actor  Gerald  du  Maurier  (son  of  the  brilliant 
Punch  draughtsman,  who  also  wrote  the  story  of  Trilby.) 
These  were  Gerald's  early  appearances,  and  be,  even 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     213 

then,  showed  very  clearly  the  qualities  which  have  since 
placed  him  in  the  van  of  living  actors.  Also  Charles 
Brookfield  was  in  the  cast,  and  as  well  Miss  Rosina 
Filippi,  Miss  Dorothea  Baird  (Mi's.  H.  B.  Irving), 
and  Lewis  Waller.  It  will  be  remembered  that  this  was 
the  Diamond  Jubilee  year,  and  one  very  great  event 
occurred  when  Mr.  Tree  invited  all  the  Colonial  Premiers 
then  visiting  England  to  the  theatre  and  afterwards  to 
a  reception  and  recherche  supper  on  the  stage.  A  very 
notable  and  brilliant  gathering. 

After  that,  July  17,  1897,  I  played  for  four  weeks  in 
a  comedy  at  the  Criterion,  Four  Little  Girls,  by  Walter 
S.  Craven.  I  was  responsible  for  the  production  of 
this  play.  It  appeared  to  greatly  please  the  audi- 
ences who  saw  it,  but  the  weather  was  dreadfully  hot, 
and  from  that  or  other  causes  it  was  not  attractive 
enough  to  be  kept  in  the  bill.  One  recollection  of  this 
play  is  still  vivid  in  my  mind.  It  was  the  last  ap- 
pearance of  that  extraordinarily  funny  actor  William 
Blakeley.  Probably  very  few  comedians  have  ever 
pleased  or  got  more  laughter  from  a  public  than  this 
genial  and  eccentric  old  friend.  He  was  irresistible. 
Lines  that  appeared  quite  ordinary,  not  to  say  worthless, 
he  would  get  "  screams  "  for,  and  if  he  had  a  good  scene 
to  play  he  could  easily  hold  his  own  with  any  kind  of 
comedian  who  might  be  pitted  against  him.  The 
stories  told  of  him  are  amongst  the  most  amusing  of  the 
modern  stage,  but  most  of  them  depend  absolutely  on 
his  own  mannerisms,  and  would  appear  quite  pointless 
in  cold  print.  Within  a  few  weeks  of  writing  these 
lines  a  gentleman  in  America,  in  talking  of  the  early 
visits  to  that  country  of  Charles  Wyndham  and  the 


214    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

elder  Sothern,  said  to  me  :  "  Yes ;  but  who  was  that 
wonderfully  funny  old  gentleman  they  had  with  them  ?  " 
This  was  William  Blakeley.     His  remark  on  his  first 
visit  to  New  York  has  become  a  classic.     Jolting  in  a 
carriage,   over  a   very  badly-paved  street   on   his  way 
from  the  dock  to  his  hotel,  he  got  exasperated,  and  said  : 
"  Oh,  hang  it  !    I  knew  I  shouldn't  like  the  beastly 
country    before    I    started."     Once,    seated    behind    a 
gentleman  at  the  club,  who  was  playing  poker  (Blakeley 
only  knew  the  game  of   Napoleon),   he   blurted  out  : 
"  Three  aces  and  two  kings  !   By  gad  !  I  should  go  Nap  !  " 
The  discomfiture  of  the  holder  of  the  hand,  who  was  a 
keen  plaj^er,  may  be  imagined  by  those  who  play  cards 
and  know  the  games  in  question.     On  the  occasion  of 
his  last  appearance  he  had  great  difficulty  in  remembering 
his  words.     I  was  playing  the  opposite  part  and,  with 
the  affection  I  had  for  him,  I  had  covered  up  his  dis- 
crepancies  from   the   audience    by   speaking   much   of 
his  part  as  well  as  my  own,  when,  in  the  third  act,  to 
my  utter  dismay,  he  suddenly  exclaimed  :  "As  I  was 
going  to  say  when  you  interrupted  me,"  etc.     Poor  old 
"  Bill."      It   was   his  last  effort ;  and  very  soon  after 
the    curtain    fell    finally    on    as    funny     an     actor    as 
ever  lived.     We  all  mourned  the  loss  of  a  genial  old 
friend,  and  the  public  that  of  one  of  their  primest  mirth- 
pro  vokers.     We  tried  the  play  for  a  week  in  a  suburban 
theatre,  but  it  did  not  succeed. 

The  autumn  of  1897  was  one  of  great  interest  and 
importance  to  me.  I  played  Polonius  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  in  support  of  Forbes-Robertson,  who  then 
made  his  first  appearance  as  Hamlet.  The  circumstance 
of  my  doing  so  was  a  little  amusing.     Forbes  and  I  had 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     215 

both  been  proteges  of  Mr.  Phelps,  and  our  careers 
had  run  on  similar  lines,  though  in  different  fields.  I 
mean  we  had  both  been  leading  men  for  many  years, 
and,  although  I  had  begun  to  drift  into  character  parts, 
I  had  not  definitely  taken  up  the  line  of  business  known 
as  old  men.  With  that  kindly  consideration  for  others 
denoting  the  true  gentleman,  which  has  been  one  of 
his  distinguishing  characteristics  all  his  life,  he  hesi- 
tated about  asking  me  to  play  Polonius  to  his  Hamlet. 
I  well  remember  he  called  at  my  house,  and,  with  more 
than  ordinary  trepidation,  broached  the  subject  to 
me,  telling  me  how  much  he  would  like  me  to  accept 
the  part,  and  begging  me  not  to  be  angry,  but  to  give 
the  matter  my  calm  consideration.  To  his  astonish- 
ment I  accepted  at  once  quite  gladly,  with  the  one 
reservation  that  I  should  be  allowed  to  play  the  part 
as  I  read  it  in  the  book.  He  replied  that  that  was 
just  what  he  wanted,  and  the  matter  was  settled  there 
and  then.  We  opened  on  September  11,  1897.  It 
would  be  quite  superfluous  for  me  to  add  anything  to 
the  encomiums  which  greeted  his  performance.  From 
then  until  to-day  his  has  remained  the  Hamlet  of  our 
time — graceful,  feeling,  pathetic,  scholarly,  lovable — • 
no  Hamlet  of  our  time  has  read  the  lines  as  beautifully 
or  brought  out  their  meaning  with  such  distinction  and 
such  distinctness.  Hamlets  have  been  seen  who  ac- 
centuated this  or  that  point  with  greater  emphasis  or 
greater  elaboration.  Hamlets  have  been  seen  for  whom 
it  was  claimed  that  they  reached  greater  heights  of 
tragedy.  Every  actor  finds  something  to  suit  his 
temperament  in  some  part  of  Hamlet,  and  every  thinker 
amongst  the  public  has  his  pet  theories  as  to  what 


216    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Shakespeare  meant  in  the  various  scenes  of  the  play, 
but  the  great  heart  of  the  paying  public  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic  for  the  last  sixteen  years  has  declared 
with  no  uncertain  voice  for  the  Hamlet  of  Johnston 
Forbes -Robertson.  On  this  notable  occasion,  I  am 
very  proud  to  say  I  was  not  found  wanting.  For  years 
and  years  I  had  seen  Polonius  played,  as  I  thought, 
quite  "  out  of  shape."  Tradition  is  a  splendid  thing  on 
the  stage,  and  I  firmly  believe  in  it,  but  when  it  does 
lead  wrongly  it  leads  very  wrongly  indeed.  Numbers 
of  parts  have  got  "  out  of  gear  "  through  exigencies 
of  cast  at  some  time  or  other  and  various  different  causes, 
and  perhaps  no  one  part  had  suffered  more  in  the  past 
than  Polonius.  I  have  seen  performances  of  it  which 
made  me  shudder.  I  determined  to  blot  everything  out 
of  my  vision,  and,  as  the  elder  Boucicault  said  (to  which 
I  have  referred  in  my  earlier  notes),  read  what  the  author 
said.  I  found  him  the  acting  Lord  Chamberlain  of  the 
court,  a  splendid  father,  with  a  keen  eye  for  the  main 
chance,  and  a  never-failing  solicitude  for  the  welfare 
of  his  son  and  daughter;  far  too  wise  and  prudent  to 
make  an  enemy  of  the  prince  whom  he  firmly  believes 
to  be  mad — or  very  nearly  so — and,  in  short,  ever 
ready,  when  meeting  this  prince,  with  what  in  modern 
slang  is  known  as  "  spoof."  On  these  lines  I  played  him  ; 
I  venture  to  assert  he  was  as  amusing  as  he  had  ever  been 
without  losing  a  particle  of  his  dignity  or  his  character. 
It  is  my  pleasure  that  the  Press  were  unanimous  in  my 
praise,  and  my  friends,  the  public,  showed  me  very  un- 
mistakably that  I  had  pleased  them.  A  compliment 
which  I  greatly  appreciated  came  from  that  fine 
writer    and     Shakespearean    student,    Herman    Meri- 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE    217 

vale.  He  had  often  spoken  pleasantly  of  my  work  in 
poetic  plays.  Just  after  the  production  of  Hamlet, 
I  met  him,  coming  out  of  the  Garrick  Club,  and,  grasping 
my  hand  heartily,  he  said  :  "  My  dear  Jack  Barnes, 
all  I  have  to  say  about  your  Polonius  is  that  no  one  dare 
play  it  the  old  way  as  long  as  you  are  alive."  Wliat 
could  one  desire  more  ?  I  was  very  happy  over  the 
whole  matter.  The  cast  included  Mrs.  Patrick  Camp- 
bell, Miss  Granville,  Miss  Sydney  Crowe,  Messrs.  Cooper 
Cliffe,  Bernard  Gould  (Bernard  Partridge  of  Punch), 
Graham  Browne,  Franklyn  Dyall,  Martin  Harvey, 
Fisher  White,  James  Hearn,  Ian  Robertson,  and  others. 
The  play  ran  until  December  18,  1897. 

This  December  is  deeply  graven  on  the  minds  of 
many  actors  and  others  by  the  brutal  murder  of  our 
fellow-artist  William  Terriss.  "  Breezy  Bill,  "  as  his 
associates  loved  to  call  him,  was  done  to  death  by  a 
degenerate  of  the  worst  type,  named  Prince,  and  a  thrill 
of  horror  ran  through  the  entire  community  at  the 
callous  determination  of  the  crime.  No  motive  for  it 
could  be  established,  beyond  the  fact  that  the  criminal 
had  been  a  super  in  the  theatre  with  Terriss,  and  whilst 
the  latter  was  a  great  success  in  life  his  slayer  was  a 
hopeless  failure.  To  me  personally  it  was  especially 
horrible.  Will  Terriss  and  I  had  been  great  "  pals  "  since 
the  year  1872,  when  we  were  almost  boys  together  at 
Drury  Lane,  and,  on  more  than  one  occasion  of  late 
rehearsals,  etc.,  he  had  actually  shared  my  bed.  We 
had  more  than  once  talked  of  joining  forces  in  the  pro- 
duction of  a  play  we  both  greatly  believed  in,  but  some- 
thing always  occurred  to  put  an  obstacle  in  the  way. 
He  was  killed  as  he  was  entering  the  private  door  of 


218  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  Adelphi  to  prepare  for  his  evening  performance. 
No  one  would  claim  for  Terriss  that  he  was  a  great 
actor,  but  he  filled  a  niche  in  London  theatricals  which 
was  all  his  own,  and  which  it  is  bare  justice  to  say  has 
had  no  such  efficient  occupant  since  his  death.  If 
anybody  is  found  to  quibble  at  this  statement  I  would 
remind  him  of  the  sympathetic  crowds  that  lined  the 
three  miles  of  streets  when  we  followed  him  from  his 
house  in  Chiswick  to  his  last  home  in  Brompton  Ceme- 
tery. Doubtless  the  terrible  tragedy  of  his  death  had 
created  a  special  interest,  but  "  Bill  "  Terriss  was  a 
huge  public  favourite,  and  his  name  a  household  word. 
In  some  parts,  such  as  Squire  Thornhill  {Olivia)  and 
Nemours  {Louis  XI.)  he  was  positively  splendid,  whilst 
his  Henry  VIII.,  with  Irving  at  the  Lyceum,  was  very 
admirable,  if  falling  a  little  short  of  greatness,  but  as 
the  hero  of  the  dramas  at  the  Adelphi,  such  as  Henry 
Kingsley  {Harbour  Lights),  and  indeed  in  the  whole 
series  of  the  plan's  done  about  then  at  that  theatre, 
he  was  absolutely  unapproachable,  and  up  to  now  un- 
approached.  To  his  other  fascinating  qualities  he 
added  a  delightful  impudence  which  was  amazing.  I 
remember  being  present  at  the  Haymarket  to  witness  a 
comedy  called  The  Crisis.  When  the  curtain  went  up 
on  the  first  act  Will  was  discovered  standing  by  the 
fireplace  with  a  needle  and  cotton  calmly  sewing  a  but- 
ton on  his  waistcoat  whilst  taking  part  in  the  opening 
dialogue.  Perfectly  natural,  perhaps,  but,  let  us  say, 
a  little  unusual  ! 

A  good  story  was  extant  at  the  time  which  ran  thus  : 
Frank  Tyars  and  he  were  next-door  neighbours  at 
Chiswick,  and  Tyars  had  a  saddle-horse  for  sale.     One 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     219 

day  Terriss,  at  work  in  his  garden,  saw  a  man  come  to 
Tyars's  door,  accosted  him,  and  learned  that  he  had 
come  to  look  at  the  horse  with  a  view  to  purchase. 
Tyars  was  in  London  for  the  day.  Terriss,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  took  the  man  round  to  the 
livery  stable  where  the  animal  stood,  struck  a  bargain 
for  its  sale,  took  the  money,  gave  the  man  possession, 
and,  when  he  came  up  to  the  theatre  (the  Lyceum)  in 
the  evening,  said  :  "  Well,  Frank,  I've  sold  the  horse 
and  here's  the  money."  All  this  without  one  word 
of  authority  from  Tyars,  who  thought  he  might  have 
got  a  little  more,  but  was  so  thoroughly  amused  at  the 
whole  thing  that  he  accepted  the  situation.  But  stories 
abounded  of  his  amusing  "  cheek,"  and  he  left  a  very 
great  void  behind  him  when  so  brutally  taken  from  us. 
His  murderer.  Prince,  is,  I  believe,  still  living  in  com- 
parative comfort  at  Broadmoor,  "  detained  during  his 
Majesty's  pleasure."  I  am  afraid  he  came  of  rather 
bad  stock.  It  may  be  of  some  dramatic  interest  to 
chronicle  the  fact  that  his  sister  (they  were  from  Dundee) 
was  a  well-known  member  of  the  half-world  of  London, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  celebrated  "  Big  Six  "  of  Alex- 
ander Henderson's  first  production  of  Les  Cloches  de 
Corneville  at  the  Charing  Cross  Theatre — a  galaxy  of 
very  fine  women.  She  even  developed  dramatic  as- 
pirations, and  a  play,  avowedly  written  by  her,  was 
given  for  a  matinee  at  the  old  Gaiety.  It  had  a  run  of 
one  consecutive  afternoon  only.  After  this  she  was 
mixed  up  in  a  well-known  actor's  divorce  case,  and  she 
was  one  of  many  mentioned  in  connection  with  a  much- 
execrated  European  monarch  who  died  a  few  years  ago. 
Unrecognised   by   her    married    name   she   was   found 


220    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

by  a  doctor,  dead,  in  a  house  in  London  recently — a 
faithful  little  dog  and  a  half-empty  bottle  of  brandy  by 
her  side — and  without  a  human  being  near  or  within 
sound.     Truly  an  ill-starred  brother  and  sister  ! 

In  the  beginning  of  1898  I  was  engaged  by  Forbes- 
Robertson  for  his  trip  to  Germany,  and  we  left  by  the 
Queenborough  and  Flushing  route  on  February  22, 
arriving  in  Berlin  on  February  23.  We  opened  in  Hamlet 
at  Kroll's  Opera  House  in  the  Thiergarten  on  March  3. 
The  German  Press  were  most  liberal  to  us,  especially 
to  our  star,  and  a  very  charming  appreciation  of  him 
and  our  work  generally  came  from  Josef  Kainz,  the 
distinguished  German  actor,  who  was  then  playing  in 
Berlin,  who  afterwards  became  an  immense  favourite 
in  Vienna,  and  who  died  only  a  short  time  ago.  In 
addition  to  Hamlet  we  played  The  Second  Mrs.  Tan- 
queray  (March  7)  for  Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell,  in  which 
she  duplicated  her  great  London  success,  but  Forbes- 
RobertsoTi  found  poor  scope  for  his  powers  in  the  some- 
what negative  part  of  Aubrey  Tanqueray.  On  March 
14  we  produced  Macbeth.  This  was  Robertson's  first 
appearance  in  that  part,  and  also  Mrs.  Campbell's 
first  effort  as  Lady  Macbeth.  I  played  Macduff.  The 
personnel  of  the  company  was  very  much  the  same  as 
in  London.  The  whole  experiment  was  immensely  in- 
teresting, although  with  our  large  expenses  and  the 
prices  of  seats  prevalent  in  Germany  I  fear  our  manager 
did  not  make  money,  but  the  kudos  of  his  success  gave 
him  any  amount  of  admirable  advertisement  for  his 
subsequent  home  tour.  I  must  say  Berlin  itself  palled 
on  me  pretty  quickly.  It  is  all  so  terribly  correct 
and  uniform  that  one  almost  pined  for  a  little  irregu- 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     221 

larity,  and  most  certainly  the  ever-present  militarism 
got  on  my  nerves  to  the  extent  of  boredom  after  awhile. 
Wherever  you  turned  nothing  but  soldiers  with  their 
ostentatious  salute  of  passing  officers;  all  the  statues 
in  the  streets,  most  of  the  pictures  in  the  museums 
apparently  designed  to  foster  the  fighting  spirit.  And 
the  crowds  of  students  everywhere  on  the  Sunday 
afternoons,  the  majority  of  their  faces  slit  and 
cut  about  by  duelling  swords  all  pointing  in  the 
same  direction.  A  brilliant  military  officer  whom  I 
sat  next  to  at  a  luncheon  given  to  Forbes-Robertson  at 
the  Berliner  Club  (whose  name  must  necessarily  be 
withheld)  explained  this  to  me  in  perfect  English  thus  : 
"  You  saw,  Mr.  Barnes,  when  you  came  to  Berlin  that 
we  have  little  or  no  frontier.  We  have  made  our 
country  by  force  of  arms,  and  we  have  to  keep  it  by  the 
same  power.  Rightly  or  wrongly,  we  are  prepared  to 
fight  an  enemy  on  either  or  both  sides,  and  every  man 
will  be  at  his  post  and  every  pound  of  provisions  to 
feed  him  in  twenty-four  hours."  This  point  is  brought 
forcibly  under  your  notice  by  all  the  rolling  stock  of 
all  the  railways  bearing  the  Government  mark  of  its 
capacity  for  carrying  men,  horses,  and  provisions  in 
time  of  war.  This  officer's  remarks  give  me  the  cue 
for  recording  my  opinion  that  Prussia  (proper)  is  not 
only  a  flat,  grey  country,  but  that  I  also  found  the 
Prussians  a  flat,  dull  people  as  a  whole.  As  one  journeys 
south  in  Germany  and  gets  among  the  mountains  and 
the  sunshine  the  whole  character  of  the  population 
appears  to  change.  I  wonder  if  my  readers  will  agree 
with  the  statement  which  I  make  from  my  own  obser- 
vation, that  nearly  all  art,  music,  and  charm  in  life 


222    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

appear  to  follow  the  sun  and  thrive  more    satisfactorily 
among  bright  and  picturesque  surroundings. 

Probably  the  outstanding  impression  remaining  in 
my  mind  of  my  visit  to  Berlin  is  that  of  the  Emperor. 
At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  he  was  even  more 
in  the  public  eye  that  he  is  to-day.  All  Europe  was 
regarding  him  with  the  keenest  interest  as  well  as 
anxiety,  and  opinions  were  very  varied  as  to  his  inten- 
tions and  his  characteristics.  Most  assuredly  one  had 
to  go  to  Berlin  to  realise  his  tremendous  hold  on  the 
affection  and  admiration  of  his  people,  and  the  reason 
of  it.  It  would  be  quite  impossible  to  overstate  his 
indefatigability.  He  was  surely  the  hardest  working 
man  in  the  whole  of  his  dominions.  Morning,  noon, 
and  night,  whatever  affected  the  welfare  of  the  citizens, 
found  him  taking  a  personal  interest  in  it.  After  his 
usual  ride  up  the  Unter  den  Linden  in  the  morning  you 
were  liable  to  meet  the  Royal  carriage  half  a  dozen 
times  a  day  driving  hither  and  thither  with  its  Imperial 
occupant  inspecting  for  himself  everything  of  public 
consequence.  A  small  evidence  of  his  systematic  self- 
discipline  was  connected  with  us.  He  came  to  see 
Forbes-Robertson  play  Hamlet,  and  sent  for  him  to 
offer  him  his  gracious  congratulations,  but  it  put  him 
a  little  "  out  of  his  stride."  It  drove  his  plain  supper 
off  to  a  later  hour  than  he  liked  before  retiring.  He 
came  again  to  see  us  play  Macbeth,  and  this  time  an 
extra  carriage  in  the  retinue  carried  a  chef  and  small 
cooking  apparatus,  and  his  modest  supper  was  served 
in  the  retiring  room  at  the  back  of  his  box  after  the 
third  act,  so  that  he  would  not  pay  us  the  bad  compli- 
ment of  leaving  before  the  end  of  the  play,  but  was  then 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     223 

able  to  retire  immediately  he  reaehed  the  castle.  A 
small  matter  to  record,  perhaps,  but  all  part  of  a  big 
man's  earnestness. 

From  Berlin  we  went  to  Hanover  (March  16),  a  dear 
old-world  city  with  its  picturesque  home  of  the  ancient 
Royal  family  and  a  perfectly  magnificent  Opera  House, 
where  we  played.  From  Hanover  to  Hamburg  (March 
23),  with  its  busy  river  full  of  shipping  and  bustling 
industry  everywhere,  and  its  beautiful  ornamental 
water  (the  Alster  Basin)  in  the  middle  of  the  city ;  and 
from  there  to  Amsterdam  (March  28),  which,  tome,  was 
much  the  most  charming  of  the  four  places  we  visited. 
Everything  was  so  different  to  all  one's  experiences. 
To  see  the  groceries  delivered  and  the  dust  refuse  col- 
lected by  boat;  the  old  Dutch  buildings  overlooking 
the  canals,  as  well  as  the  character  of  the  people — all 
was  picturesque,  novel,  and  delightful.  Of  course  we 
went  to  the  Island  of  Marken,  in  the  Zuyder  Zee,  where 
Henry  Labouchere  (previously  mentioned)  was  born, 
and  where  the  natives  continue  to  wear  their  last  cen- 
tury costumes  for  business  purposes  and  sell  you  souvenirs 
and  tokens,  manufactured  (I  shrewdly  suspect)  in  Bir- 
mingham. I  have  always  remembered  Amsterdam 
with  the  keenest  pleasure,  and  one  of  its  greatest 
delights  was  a  Rembrandt  picture  in  the  public  gallery, 
supposed  to  be  the  artist's  finest  example,  "  The  Night 
Watch."  No  work  of  art  has  ever  fascinated  me  quite 
so  much  as  this.  I  found  myself  gazing  on  it  at  least 
five  out  of  the  seven  days  I  was  there.  We  played  the 
same  three  plays  in  all  the  cities  we  visited.  In  Amster- 
dam a  most  gratifying  notice  appeared  in  one  of  the 
newspapers,  coupling  my  name  with  that  of  our  star 


224     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

at  all  points,  and  expressing  the  hope  that  "  Messrs. 
Forbes-Robertson  and  Barnes  would  soon  pay  a  return 
visit  to  show  the  citizens  what  the  English  Shakespeare 
meant  by  Hamlet  and  Polonius."  We  left  Amsterdam 
on  April  3,  and  returned  to  London,  as  before,  via 
Queenborough  and  Flushing. 


XXIV 

Back  in  England,  we  commenced  a  tour  of  the  pro- 
vincial towns,  beginning  at  the  Grand,  Islington,  where 
we  played  Hamlet  all  the  week.  On  the  Saturday  a 
New  York  manager  of  my  acquaintance,  visiting  London, 
went  with  me  to  the  theatre  and  made  Robertson  a 
very  fine  offer  to  visit  the  United  States  with  Hamlet 
in  the  autumn  of  the  year.  The  financial  proposition 
was  most  tempting  and  even  extraordinary,  but  certain 
outside  conditions  were  unacceptable,  and  America 
had  to  wait  some  years  before  seeing  this  fine  perform- 
ance. We  visited  Newcastle,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh, 
Birmingham,  Manchester  and  Liverpool.  The  Press 
was  most  laudatory  about  Hamlet,  but  not  so  enthusiastic 
about  Macbeth.  Business  was  fine  everywhere.  During 
our  week  in  Edinburgh  (May  14),  a  luncheon  was  ten- 
dered to  Mr.  Robertson  and  Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell  by 
the  well-known  artistic  club,  The  Pen  and  Pencil,  to 
which  I  was  invited,  and  after  the  principal  guests  had 
been  toasted  the  hon.  secretary,  Mr.  W.  W.  Macfarlane, 
proposed  my  health  in  glowing  terms,  alluding  most 
feelingly  to  my  old  association  with  the  city.  It  was 
received  with  the  greatest  favour,  and  I  had  a  big  lump 
in  my  throat  and  a  strongly  palpitating  heart  as  I  rose 
to  respond.  During  this  tour  some  of  my  poems 
appeared  in  the  Manchester  Chronicle  ;  and  the  Admiralty 

Q  225 


226    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

and  Horse  Guards^  Gazette,  of  London,  reprinted  a  whole 
series  of  them  in  July,  August  and  September  of  the 
same  year,  1898,  and  a  new  one  entitled,  "  Belief — a 
Parallel,"  May  18,  1899. 

On  September  1,  I  re-appeared  in  London  at  Her 
Majesty's  in  a  play  by  L.  N.  Parker  and  Murray  Carson, 
called  The  Termagant.  I  am  afraid  it  was  not  quite 
a  good  play,  but  unfortunate  dissensions  arose  at 
rehearsals  between  the  authors  and  the  star.  Miss  Olga 
Nethersole,  causing  certain  changes  in  the  cast,  etc., 
and  it  failed  to  "  catch  on,"  finishing  its  short  career  on 
October  7.  Hamlet  was  revived  by  Forbes -Robertson 
at  the  Lyceum  on  November  7,  for  three  weeks.  Busi- 
ness for  the  revival  was  not  great.  On  December  6  I 
played  in  a  broadly  farcical  comedy  at  Terry's  entitled 
The  Brixton  Burglary,  with  a  good  cast,  including  James 
Welch,  Holmes-Gore,  F.  Gottschalk,  Frank  Curzon, 
Maud  Hobson,  and  Annie  Hughes.  It  was  well  noticed, 
but  business  was  only  moderate,  and  the  run  finished 
Januar}'^  21,  1899.  The  play  afterwards  made  much 
money  in  the  provinces  and  America. 

In  February,  1899, 1  was  engaged  for  a  very  interesting 
experiment.  The  New  Century  Theatre  Society  pro- 
duced at  the  Haymarket,  for  four  matinees,  February 
7,  9,  10,  13,  a  play  by  H.  V.  Esmond,  entitled  Grierson's 
Way.  It  dealt  with  a  somewhat  gruesome  subject,  but 
was  a  very  fine  piece  of  work.  And  in  these  days  of 
ultra-realism  I  can  never  understand  why  it  has  not 
been  revived.  I  feel  sure  it  would  be  successful, 
although  it  will  have  been  gathered  from  my  oft -ex- 
pressed opinion  it  is  not  a  class  of  play  I  am,  personally, 
in   sympathy   with.     At   the    Haymarket   it   had   the 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     227 

advantage  of  an  excellent  company — the  author  him- 
self, G.  S.  Titheradge,  Fred  Terry,  myself,  Miss  Lena 
Ashwell,  and  Miss  Ingram.  Esmond  rehearsed  us 
most  carefully  and  considerately,  and  gave  a  splendidly 
vivid  performance  of  a  strangely  dramatic  character 
himself — a  cripple  whose  nature  and  temperament  were 
warped  by  his  misfortune  and  who  worked  the  evil  of 
the  story.  I  doubt  if  Miss  Lena  Ashwell  ever  played 
better  than  in  this  play,  though  perhaps  she  won't  thank 
me  for  saying  so.  I  have  seen  and  admired  much  of  her 
work  on  the  stage.  Of  course,  she  has  played  many 
parts  in  pieces  that  ran  for  a  long  time  and  therefore 
made  a  greater  impression  on  the  public,  such  as  in 
Mrs.  Dane's  Defence  and  many  others,  but  with  the 
advantage  of  the  author's  ideas,  and  in  consultation 
with  him,  I  think  she  never  reached  a  higher  plane 
in  her  art  than  in  Grierson's  Way.  The  play  did  not 
prove  attractive,  but  the  business  improved  steadily 
for  each  of  the  four  matinees,  and  it  was  beginning  to  be 
talked  about  a  great  deal  when  the  last  was  reached. 

I  am  afraid  that  about  this  time  I  struck  an  unlucky 
streak.  On  April  28,  1899,  I  played  in  another  play  by 
L.  N.  Parker  and  Murray  Carson  at  the  Garrick,  entitled 
Change  Alley,  founded  on  the  dramatic  episode  in  history 
of  the  South  Sea  Bubble.  Much  had  been  hoped  for 
from  this  comedy  drama,  and  it  seemed  to  contain  the 
elements  of  success  during  rehearsals.  It  partook  of 
the  nature  of  plays  known  as  old  comedies,  was  full 
of  seemingly  good  parts,  and  a  splendid  company  of 
London  favourites  were  engaged  for  its  representation ; 
but,  alas  !  it  fell  hopelessly  flat  in  performance,  was 
condemned  by  the  Press  unanimously,  and  only  ran 


228  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

eleven  nights,  I  don't  think  the  fault  lay  with  the 
actors.  On  June  8,  1899,  an  article  of  mine  appeared 
in  The  Stage  on  the  subject  of  Stage  Traditions,  in  which 
I  pointed  out  the  advantage  of  at  least  considering  the 
effects  produced  by  our  predecessors,  and  called  attention 
to  several  noteworthy  examples  of  the  great  moments 
that  had  pleased  and  interested  our  fathers  and  mothers, 
in  every  case  referring  to  the  author's  text  to  prove  their 
truth  and  value. 

On  July  11,  1899,  a  great  supper  was  given  by  the 
Eccentric  Club  to  the  American  visitors  then  in  London, 
at  which  the  American  Ambassador  (Mr.  Joseph  H. 
Choate)  responded  for  the  guests  most  eloquently. 
Amongst  the  well-known  Americans  present  were  David 
Belasco,  John  Drew,  De  Wolf  Hopper,  T.  Henry  French, 
Charles  Klein,  Nat  Goodwin,  McKee  Rankin,  and  Burr 
Mcintosh.  What  extraordinarily  fine  orators  the 
Americans  are  as  a  rule  !  I  have  known  many  good 
after-dinner  speakers  in  my  time — the  late  Charles 
Dickens,  jun.,  J.  Comyns  Carr,  and  several  others — but 
the  four  very  best  I  ever  heard  in  their  order  were  James 
Russell  Lowell,  Robert  Ingersoll,  Chauncey  Depew, 
and  Joseph  H.  Choate. 

On  July  21, 1899,  Rosemary  was  played  with  nearly  all 
the  original  cast  for  Charles  Wyndham's  last  appearance 
at  the  Criterion  "  after  twenty-three  years  of  continuous 
management."  I  don't  quite  know  why,  for  he  has  often 
acted  there  since,  but  probably  it  was  not  his  intention 
to  do  so  at  the  time  I  write  of.  In  1899,  four  big  benefits 
took  place.  The  recipients  were  all  loved  and  respected 
by  the  profession  as  well  as  the  public.  The  former, 
including  the  writer,  gladly  joined  in  making  up  monster 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     229 

programmes,  and  the  latter  responded  by  their  attend- 
ance and  subscriptions,  so  that  liberal  results  were 
obtained  in  each  case.  The  first  was  that  of  Miss  Lydia 
Thompson,  held  at  the  Lyceum,  May  2.  Miss  Thompson 
was  in  her  day  the  most  dashing,  shapely,  pretty, 
and  fascinating  of  burlesque  boys,  the  wife  of  Alexander 
Henderson,  and  mother  of  that  charming  actress.  Miss 
Zeffie  Tilbury,  who  has  found  a  successful  field  for  her 
work  for  many  years  in  America.  As  a  young  woman, 
Miss  Thompson  got  a  large  amount  of  notoriety  and 
advertisement  by  horse-whipping  a  man  on  the  Press 
in  Chicago,  who  had  incurred  her  anger  by  some  insulting 
remarks  about  her.  On  September  21,  1899,  Charles 
Morton  was  given  a  birthday  testimonial  at  the  Palace 
with  an  immense  programme  of  stars  drawn  from  both 
theatre  and  music  hall.  Morton  was  the  pioneer  of  the 
improved  variety  theatre  of  London  and  was  often 
written  of  as  the  "  father  of  the  modern  music  hall." 
He  had  also  some  experience  of  theatres  proper,  having 
been  the  manager  of  the  Philharmonic,  Islington,  when 
the  immensely  successful  opera  bouffe  Genevieve  de 
BrabantwsiS  produced  with  Miss  Emily  Soldene  as  Drogan, 
on  November  11,  1871.  For  hundreds  of  nights  this 
tuneful  opera  drew  all  London  to  this  somewhat  out- 
lying theatre  and  made  a  large  sum  of  money.  After 
its  run  there,  and,  I  think,  one  succeeding  musical  play, 
Mr.  Morton  became  Miss  Soldene 's  manager,  and  con- 
ducted her  tours  through  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States  for  some  years,  finally  returning  to  his  first 
love,  the  music  hall,  and  becoming  manager,  in 
turn,  of  the  Alhambra  and  the  Palace,  etc.  At  the 
latter  he   finished  his    career    and    his    hard-working 


230    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

life,  and  was  greatly  respected  and  regretted.  The 
Philharmonic  Theatre  afterwards  became  the  Grand, 
and  is  now  given  over  to  variety  as  the  Islington  Empire. 
Miss  Soldene  (whom  I  had  once  heard  sing  as  Miss 
Fitzhenry  at  the  old  Oxford  Music  Hall)  held  a  foremost 
place  amongst  comic  opera  singers  for  many  years.  She 
had  a  splendid  voice  and  presence  and  was  a  thorough 
artist.  She  has  written  a  book  of  her  recollections, 
which  is  full  of  interest  and  amusing  matter.  The  third 
of  these  benefits  was  tendered  to  Mrs.  Billington  at 
the  Lyceum,  November  28,  1899.  A  bumper  programme 
and  attendance  !  Few  actresses  were  more  respected. 
For  years  and  years  at  the  old  Adelphi  Theatre  she  had 
played  all  sorts  of  parts,  and  all  of  them  faultlessly.  I 
did  not  see  her  Gretchen  in  Jefferson's  original  perform- 
ance of  Rip  Van  Winkle,  1865,  but  he  assured  me  in 
later  years  that  she  was  the  best  he  had  ever  played 
with.  I  did  see  her  do  an  ideal  piece  of  work  in  No 
Thoroughfare  in  1867,  when  that  play  was  first  produced 
with  an  enormous  cast,  including  Fechter,  Ben  Webster, 
Henry  Neville,  George  Belmore,  John  Billington,  Miss 
Carlotta  Leclerq,  Mrs.  Alfred  Mellon,  and  others.  If 
I  remember,  she  had  only  one  scene — in  the  first  act  or 
prologue — but  it  stands  out  in  my  recollection  as  a 
very  gem.  Her  Margery  {Rough  Diamond),  Daphne 
{Pygmalion  and  Galatea),  and  the  Widow  Melnotte  with 
me  were  splendid  performances.  Indeed,  she  touched 
nothing  she  did  not  adorn,  and  her  list  of  successful 
impersonations  would  take  a  column  to  themselves. 
When  it  is  added  that  she  was  a  good-natured,  humorous, 
whole-souled  comrade,  thoroughly  womanly  and  sincere, 
it  may  be  gathered  that  "  Auntie  B.,"  as  her  intimates 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     231 

delighted  to  call  her,  was  everybody's  friend,  and  every- 
body vied  in  doing  her  honour.  I  am  glad  to  say  she  is 
still  with  us.  The  last  of  the  four  benefits  was  John 
Hollingshead's  at  the  Empire.  On  this  occasion  I 
acted  as  a  steward,  as  well  as  appearing  in  the  programme. 
I  have  alluded  so  fully  to  J.  H.'s  sterling  qualities 
earlier  in  these  recollections  that  I  need  only  add  that 
his  friends  rallied  round  him  in  goodl}^  numbers  and  the 
occasion  was  an  unqualified  success.  On  December  5, 
1899,  a  grand  military  concert  promoted  by  Miss  Ellaline 
Terriss  and  Mr.  C.  P.  Little  took  place  at  the  Albert  Hall, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  wives  and  families  of  the  soldiers 
serving  in  the  South  African  War,  as  well  as  their 
widows  and  orphans.  It  was,  indeed,  a  monster  affair. 
The  immense  building  was  thronged  in  every  part. 
The  programme  lasted  for  more  than  five  hours,  and 
the  whole  was  an  overwhelming  triumph,  yielding  a 
very  large  sum  of  money.  I  worked  on  the  committee 
and  as  a  steward,  as  well  as  helping  on  the  stage. 

In  the  autumn  of  1899  I  was  engaged  by  Wilson 
Barrett  for  a  play  written  by  him  and  L.  N.  Parker, 
named  Man  and  His  Makers.  He  had  the  highest 
hopes  of  it,  and  produced  it  splendidly  at  the  Lyceum 
with  an  excellent  cast  on  October,  7,  but  it  failed  com- 
pletely, and  was  received  by  Press  and  public  with  such 
lukewarm  interest  that  it  made  way  for  the  ever-popular 
The  Sign  of  the  Cross  on  October  19.  We  played  some 
matinSes  of  Hamlet,  in  which  I  acted  the  Ghost,  and 
the  season  closed  December  16,  1899. 

A  few  references  to  Barrett  may  be  of  interest  here. 
His  career  was  a  most  varied  one.  A  good  sound  actor 
of  experience  and  skill,  he  married  a  very  charming 


232    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

lady.  Miss  Heath.  She  was  spoken  of  as  "  reader  to 
the  Queen  "  (Victoria).  I  never  quite  understood  what 
that  position  imphed,  or  its  functions,  but  she  was  a 
thorough  artist,  and  a  most  amiable  gentlewoman  who 
had  been  reared  under  the  tutorage  of  Charles  Kean,  in 
his  days  of  glamour,  success,  and  royal  patronage  at 
the  Old  Princess's.  I  played  Captain  Levison  with  her 
in  a  revival  of  East  Lynne  at  the  Olympic,  1879.  With 
his  wife,  Barrett  travelled  the  provinces,  making  good 
money,  and  eventually  became  manager  of  theatres 
in  Hull  and  Leeds.  Then  he  came  to  London  and  took 
the  Court,  where  he  produced  several  plays,  including 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  with  Madame  Modjeska  as  Juliet, 
himself  as  Mercutio.  From  the  Court  he  migrated  to 
the  rebuilt  Princess's,  and  here  he  held  sway  for  many 
seasons  with  a  series  of  very  successful  melodramas, 
such  as  The  Lights  o'  London,  Hoodman  Blind,  and  last, 
but  by  no  means  least,  that  admirable  play,  The  Silver 
King  (1882),  by  Henry  Arthur  Jones  and  Henry  Herman. 
This  sterling  acting  play  ran  for  many  months,  and  made 
Barrett  a  rich  man,  as,  besides  its  success  at  the  London 
theatre,  numerous  provincial  companies  were  profitably 
employed  in  playing  it.  Then  Barrett  got  "  a  bee  in 
his  bonnet,"  that  he  wanted  to  play  higher  class  work, 
and  produced  such  plays  as  Claudian,  Clito,  and  later 
on,  Hamlet.  That  his  public  did  not  want  him  in  this 
kind  of  work  was  amply  demonstrated.  He  not  only 
lost  money  in  London,  but  he  cut  the  ground  from  under 
his  many  successful  country  companies,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  had  not  only  squandered  his  comfortable  fortune 
but  was  quite  heavily  in  debt,  and  in  the  hands  of  harpies 
who  kept  him  toiling  for  their  rapacious  greed.     But 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     233 

Wilson  Barrett  was  an  indefatigable  worker,  and  never 
knew  when  he  was  beaten,  and  fortune  turned  her  smiling 
face  on  him  once  more  when  he  wrote  and  produced  that 
almost  world-beating  and  attractively-named  success, 
The  Sign  of  the  Cross.  It  was  not  a  great  play  surely, 
though  full  of  theatrical  effect,  and  its  "  fate  hung  in  the 
balance  "  for  a  time,  but  it  possessed  an  element  which 
appealed  to  the  religious  section  of  the  public  which 
gave  it  its  first  "  send  off."  About  every  decade  one 
of  these  plays  does  seem  to  crop  up  and  assert  itself.  But 
whatever  the  reason.  The  Sign  of  the  Cross  soon  became 
the  absolute  rage  of  playgoers  in  every  part  of  the  English- 
speaking  world,  was  being  played  everywhere,  and  Wilson 
Barrett  was  a  well-off  man  again.  From  what  I  know 
it  would  not  surprise  me  to  hear  that  this  play  had  made 
money  and  earned  royalties  enough  to  establish  a 
positive  "  record  "  up  to  date.  And  every  one  who 
knew  "  Will  "  Barrett  was  delighted  !  He  had  not  an 
enemy  !  He  was  quite  a  good  writer,  his  name  is  con- 
nected with  the  authorship  of  many  well-known  and 
successful  plays.  Above  all  he  was  a  kindly,  charitable, 
good  fellow,  with  a  great  love  of  and  feeling  for  his 
fellow  artists.  I  have  been  assured  that  at  the  time  of 
his  greatly  regretted  death,  July  23,  1904,  he  had  on  his 
salary  list  something  like  £40  a  week  for  old  pensioners 
who  had  "  fallen  by  the  way,"  and  whom  he  employed 
for  small  and  "  walk  on  "  parts  at  a  salary  on  which 
they  could  live,  whereas  ordinary  supers  at  one-third 
of  the  sum  would  have  done  the  work  as  well.  His 
kindly  acts  were  many  and  frequent,  and  all  done  without 
ostentation  and  "  under  the  rose,"  where  no  advertise- 
ment could  be  intended  or  expected.     He  used  to  tell 


234    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

one  or  two  amusing  stories.  One  was  of  his  dresser, 
a  very  cockney  young  man  indeed.  Barrett  decided 
to  have  his  somewhat  straight  hair  curled  for  one  of  his 
parts  (I  think  it  was  Claudian).  At  the  dress  rehearsal 
he  sent  this  dresser  round  to  the  front  to  report  on 
the  effect.  Wlien  he  came  back  to  Will's  dressing  room, 
in  answer  to  questions  he  replied  ; — "  Upon  my  soul, 
Governor,  you  looks  all  'ead."  On  another  occasion 
he  was  leaving  rehearsal,  and  hailing  a  hansom  cab  he 
was  about  to  enter  it,  and  stood  with  one  foot  on  the 
step  abstractedly  thinking  of  some  engrossing  business 
matter,  when  the  cab-driver  said,  impatiently  :  "  Now, 
then,  Wilson,  get  in  !  I  knows  where  you  wants  to  go 
to  if  you  don't  !  " 

When  Barrett  struck  his  ill -fortune  he  gave  up  the 
Princess's  and  became  a  wanderer.  His  subsequent 
appearances  in  London  were  at  the  Princess's  (return), 
the  Lyric  (twice),  the  Lyceum  (twice)  and  the  Olympic. 
He  also  made  tours  of  Australia  and  the  United  States. 
The  Sign  of  the  Cross  was  produced  first  at  St.  Louis, 
U.S.A.  Its  first  performance  in  England  was  at  the 
Grand,  Leeds,  August  26,  1895,  and  its  initial  appearance 
in  London  was  at  the  Lyric,  January  4,  1896.  It  had 
numerous  revivals,  including  the  one  I  played  in. 
Wilson  Barrett,  in  addition  to  being  a  prolific  author, 
was  a  great  stage  director  and  an  admirable  actor. 
Amongst  his  best  characters  were  his  Claudian,  Wilfred 
Denver  {Silver  King),  Marcus  Superbus  {Sign  of  the 
Cross),  etc.,  but  perhaps  the  very  greatest  and  most 
unqualified  artistic  success  of  his  later  life  was  Pete  in  a 
dramatic  version  of  Hall  Caine's  story,  The  Mcmxman. 
In  this  he  was  most  convincing  and  admirable.     A  few 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     235 

paragraphs  back  I  wrote  of  my  streak  of  ill-luck  which  I 
encountered.  Perhaps  the  greatest  instance  of  it 
occurred  at  the  end  of  1899.  On  the  Saturday  on  which 
3Ian  and  His  Makers  was  produced  I  received  an  offer 
from  Charles  Hawtrey  to  play  the  Messenger  in  A  Message 
from  Mars  on  its  first  production.  I  waited  till  the 
Monday,  when  the  lukewarm  reception  of  the  former 
play  by  Press  and  public  made  it  tolerably  certain 
that  it  was  no  good,  and  then  I  asked  Barrett  to  release 
me  from  my  contract.  Plucky  and  optimistic  as  he  was, 
he  replied  that  "  he  was  sure  it  would  work  into  a  big 
success  and  he  intended  to  make  it  do  so,"  and  he  reluc- 
tantly declined  to  accede  to  my  request.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  when  he  spoke  he  believed  what  he  said.  He  was 
far  too  considerate  and  generous  to  have  stood  in  a 
fellow-actor's  light  without  good  reason ;  but,  as  I  have 
shown,  the  play  ran  two  weeks  and  his  whole  season 
about  nine,  and  A  Message  from  Mars  ran  550  nights 
off  the  reel  and  has  been  revived  again  and  again. 


XXV 

The  whole  story  of  the  production  of  A  Message  from 

Mars,  for  which  I  was  directly  responsible,  is  so  dramatic 

as  to  amount  to  a  perfect  "  Romance  of  the  Stage." 

The   circumstances   are   as   follows  ;     Written    by   Mr. 

Richard  Ganthony — an  Englishman  who   had   been   in 

the  United  States  for  years — it  had  been  offered  to  and 

declined    by   nearly   every   manager  in   that   country. 

Indeed,  I  have  been  told,  within  a  year  of  the  time  I 

am  penning  these  notes,  by  Mr.  Jay  Witmark,  the  music 

publisher   of    New    York,    who    sometimes    dabbles    in 

plays,  that  the  author  for  whom  he  was  acting  at  the 

time,    requiring    some    money    for    a  private  purpose, 

instructed  him  to  sell  it  outright  for  five  hundred  dollars 

(about  £100),  and  that  without  success.     Read  by  the 

light  of  subsequent  events,  this  may  seem   incredible, 

but  if  any  mistake  has  been  made,  it  is  not  mine.     I 

give  my  authority  for  the  statement.     Then  the  author 

came  to  England,  and  still  could  not  find  an  opening 

for  the  play.     About  to  return  to  New  York,  he  sought 

me  out  and  asked  me  to  interest  myself  in  the  matter. 

Before  sailing  he  came  to  my  house  and  read  the  play 

to  me.     I  don't  think  he  did  himself  justice.     At  all 

events,  I  was  not  greatly  struck  with  it,  but  still  certain 

points  did,  undoubtedly,  arrest  my  attention,  and  it 

was  arranged  that  he  should  leave  it  with  me  to  do  my 

236 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     237 

best  with  it,  and  he  sailed  away.  After  he  had  been 
gone  about  two  weeks,  I  took  the  play  from  my  desk 
and  read  it  myself  one  evening,  with  the  result  that  I 
found  myself  unusually  interested.  A  large  lump  in 
my  throat,  tears  in  my  eyes,  and  the  blood  coursing 
quickly  through  my  veins — all  not  unmixed  with  genuine 
amusement — convinced  me  I  had  found  something  out 
of  the  ordinary.  But,  thinking  that  I  might  be  in  a 
peculiarly  emotional  or  hysterical  frame  of  mind  that 
night,  I  put  it  away  for  another  space  of  two  or  three 
weeks,  when  I  read  it  again  with  the  same  result  in  an  in- 
creased degree,  if  possible.  I  then  made  up  my  mind  as 
to  its  value,  and  that  I  would  never  rest  until  I  got  it  pro- 
duced. I  saw  Hawtrey  at  once  on  the  subject,  and  after 
talking  it  over  with  him,  I  sent  it  to  him  to  read.  He  did 
not  agree  with  me  about  it,  and  returned  it  as  of  no  use. 
I  tried  Charles  Wyndham.  He  returned  it,  telling  me  it 
was  only  a  hash  up  of  Dickens's  Scrooge  !  I  pointed 
out  to  him  that  Scrooge  was  an  old  miser,  who  could 
not  be  expected  to  get  sympathy  from  an  audience, 
but  the  leading  man  of  A  Message  jrom  Mars  was  humor- 
ous and  human,  and  never  ought  to  lose  the  sympathy 
if  properly  played.  No  good ;  he  would  not  entertain 
it.  Then  I  tried  Forbes -Robertson  and  Herbert  War- 
ing, who  was  about  to  start  a  management,  which  turned 
out  disastrously,  at  the  Imperial.  No  luck  in  either 
case.  Then  I  approached  Hawtrey  again,  with  in- 
creased earnestness  and  stronger  recommendation. 
He  consented  to  read  it  carefully  again.  Did  so,  and 
again  returned  it  as  worthless.  Finally,  when  all  hope 
seemed  gone,  he  and  I  met  one  night  at  the  Green  Room 
Club.     He  was  in  sore  trouble,  and  badly  in  want  of  a 


238    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

play.  I  once  more  broached  the  subject,  and  after 
some  exchange  of  views,  it  was  arranged  that  I  should 
join  him  at  breakfast  at  his  flat  the  next  morning  and 
go  into  the  matter  more  fully.  This  I  did,  and  read  to 
him  two  short  scenes  from  the  play  on  which  I  thought 
its  success  seemed  to  turn.  He  became  convinced  I 
was  right,  at  last,  and  said,  "  By  Jove  !  I  see  it  now  ! 
If  I  can  have  a  few  changes  made  in  it  to  make  it  more 
suited  to  my  purpose  I  will  do  it,  and  do  it  next."  I 
consented  to  this,  and  the  production  was  arranged. 
Even  then  only  he  and  I  were  strong  in  our  belief. 
At  the  dress  rehearsal  a  dear  friend  of  his  appeared  in 
despair,  and  apparently  regarded  me  with  feelings  far 
removed  from  those  of  kindliness,  and  a  mutual  chum 
(that  good  fellow,  Walter  Pallant,  long  since  gone  to  his 
rest)  voiced  his  opinion  thus  :  "  Jack  !  What  have 
you  let  our  pal,  Charlie,  in  for  ?  "  I  replied  :  "  It 
will  run  a  year,  Walter  !  "  He  answered  :  "  My  dear 
chap  !  It  will  never  finish  !  "  The  eventful  night 
came — November  22,  1899.  I  finished  my  performance 
early  at  the  Lyceum  and  got  down  to  the  Avenue  in 
time  to  see  the  last  act  from  the  pit  and  meet  the  audience 
when  they  came  out.  Never  have  I  heard  such  general 
praise  for  a  new  play  !  Hardened  Press  men  were 
raving  about  it,  and  the  paying  public,  wiping  the  honest 
tears  from  their  eyes,  were  shaking  each  other's  hands 
hysterically,  and  (in  one  case)  looking  for  beggars  to 
be  charitable  to  on  the  spot.  Its  success  was  un- 
equivocal and  emphatic.  Had  it  not  been  so  it  could 
not  have  stood  the  "  set  back  "  still  in  store  for  it. 
Hawtrey  sprained  his  shoulder  falling  in  the  second 
act,  and  the  next  performance  took  place  on  the  Monday 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     239 

week — ^the  theatre  being  closed  in  the  interim.  Think 
what  that  meant  to  a  new  production  !  It  ran  for  a 
year  and  a  half  !  and  it  has  been  playing  somewhere 
ever  since.  Of  course,  the  aggregated  profits  represent 
a  very  large  sum  of  money  to  all  concerned,  however 
they  may  have  been  divided.  Now  I  do  not  wish  to 
claim  any  extraordinary  credit  in  this  matter,  but  I 
do  claim  this  for  actors  who,  like  myself,  have  worked 
conscientiously  for  a  great  number  of  years  in  our 
calling.  Few  plays  that  can  be  brought  before  us  are 
very  original.  Every  one,  and  nearly  every  scene,  is 
reminiscent  of  something  we  have  met  before.  I  could 
make  out  a  very  long  list  of  plays  with  their  originals 
opposite  to  them.  Why,  even  Shakespeare  is  credited 
with  annexing  the  plots  of  others  !  An  actor  would 
be  a  fool  who  said  he  could  surely  judge  the  value  of  a 
play  from  reading  it,  and  still  more  of  a  fool  if  that 
play  depended  for  its  success  on  its  cleverness.  Such 
plays  may  go  wrong  from  a  hundred  different  causes. 
But  there  are  certain  notes  of  humanity  running  through 
some  plays  which  the  experienced  actor  recognises  as 
never  failing  in  their  power  to  move  and  interest  an 
audience ;  and  these  are  the  notes  in  which  it  is  toler- 
ably safe  to  invest  capital.  Such  a  note  I  found  in  A 
Message  from  Mars  unmistakably.  I  had  achieved 
some  of  my  most  important  successes  as  an  actor  in 
similar  scenes,  and  I  felt  very  confident  I  was  on  the 
right  track  in  this  case.  The  result  spoke  for  itself. 
A  good  deal  was  said  about  the  changes  made  in  the 
play  by  Hawtrey's  brother,  under  his  direction,  and 
these  changes  were  the  subject  of  an  action  by  the 
author  against  a  London  newspaper,  in  which  I  was  a 


240    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

witness,  and  I  venture  to  think  my  evidence  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  result  of  the  trial,  which  was  won 
by  Mr.  Ganthony  with  substantial  damages.  I  was 
able  to  testify  on  oath  that  the  changes  made  most 
certainly  improved  the  play  as  a  vehicle  for  Charles 
Hawtrey's  charming  light  comedy  method,  and  in 
this  respect  only;  that  wherever  the  construction  was 
changed,  it  was  not  for  the  better,  and  that  had  an 
actor  with  a  stronger  method  produced  the  play,  it 
would  have  succeeded  as  it  stood.  That  is  my  deliberate 
opinion  to-day.  If  Forbes -Robertson  had  produced 
A  Message  from  Mars  exactly  as  it  stood,  in  my  judg- 
ment it  would  have  brought  him  just  as  big  a  success, 
as  he  afterwards  found  in  The  Passing  of  the  Third 
Floor  Back,  with  which,  I  think,  it  compared  very 
favourably.  Only  the  fortune  would  have  come  to 
him  some  years  earlier.  Having  said  so  much,  I  should 
not  like  to  leave  the  subject  without  expressing  my 
appreciation  of  the  delightful,  even  great,  performances 
in  the  play.  Charles  Hawtrey  himself  was  absolutely 
brilliant  as  Horace ;  humorous,  refined,  and,  withal, 
instinct  with  feeling,  he  delighted  everybody.  Arthur 
Williams,  as  the  tramp,  was  no  whit  behind  him — 
funny,  human,  and  pathetic;  his  performance  was  a 
masterpiece.  G.  S.  Titheradge  (now  returned  to  his 
countless  friends  in  Australia  and  his  beloved  gardening 
and  bulb-growing)  was  sound  and  effective  as  the 
Messenger.  Poor  Mrs.  Pateman  (whose  great  physical 
sufferings  ended  in  her  sad  death  some  years  ago)  was 
a  model  Auntie;  and  Miss  Jessie  Bateman  won  all 
hearts  by  her  sweet  enactment  of  the  ingenue.  All 
the  small  parts  were  well  played,  and  one  and  all  aided 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     241 

in  a  wonderful  artistic  and  financial  success.  For  me, 
the  conduct  of  the  business  presented  many  points  of 
recurring  anxiety,  and  I  was  heartily  glad  when  the 
ship  "  was  safely  steered  into  harbour." 

February  22,  1900,  found  me  playing  in  a  comedy 
at  the  Vaudeville  by  Miss  Clo.  Graves,  entitled  The 
Bislwp's  Eye.  Amongst  my  comrades  were  Yorke 
Stephens,  Ernest  Hendrie,  Miss  Carlotta  Addison, 
Miss  Granville,  and  a  curiously  named  young  lady, 
Miss  Ellas  Dee.  The  play  was  not  successful,  and  ran 
only  nine  nights.  The  season  was  nominally  under 
the  management  of  Yorke  Stephens,  but  the  real  "  man 
behind  the  gun  "  was  a  person  well  known  in  another 
walk  of  life,  of  whom,  I  am  afraid  it  must  be  said,  in 
the  terms  applied  by  Charles  Brookfield  to  another 
man,  considerably  in  the  public  eye — that  he  was  not 
quite  a  gentleman. 

On  May  5,  1900,  I  appeared  at  the  Adelphi  as  Petro- 
nius  in  Stanislaus  Strange's  dramatisation  of  the  Polish 
author,  Henry  Sienkiewicz's,  great  book  Quo  Vadis? 
The  play  was  produced  in  London  by  an  American 
manager,  Mr.  Fred  Whitney,  who  had  travelled  it 
with  great  success  for  a  long  time  in  the  United  States. 
It  was  a  most  sumptuous  and  artistic  production,  with 
a  fine  cast,  including  Robert  Tabor,  G.  W.  Anson, 
Edward  Sass,  Robert  Pateman,  A.  G.  Poulton,  myself. 
Miss  Wallis,  Miss  Lena  Ashwell,  Edmund  Gurney, 
Franklyn  Dyall,  and  a  long  list  of  names  in  smaller 
parts.  On  the  first  night  it  appeared  an  unqualified 
success,  and,  indeed,  every  one  who  saw  it  liked  it,  but 
it  had  distinctly  bad  luck.  At  this  particular  time 
England,  and  especially  London,  was  staggering  under 


242    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

the  severe  blow  of  the  reverses  in  the  South  African 
War,  and  although  "  an  Englishman  with  his  back  to 
the  wall  "  is  a  difficult  man  to  beat,  and  no  one  really 
doubted  the  final  outcome  of  the  struggle,  at  this  junc- 
ture every  one  appeared  in  a  sullen  frame  of  mind  and 
with  teeth  firmly  set  doggedly  refused  to  be  amused  or 
to  consider  amusement.  I  candidly  believe  that  at  a 
more  propitious  time  this  production  would  have  been 
a  great  attraction.  As  it  was,  it  only  ran  four  weeks  to 
June  1.  It  was  pleasant  to  find  oneself  in  a  Roman  toga 
again — always  one  of  my  very  favourite  costumes  to 
act  in — and  the  public  appeared  to  be  pleased  with  my 
work,  if  applause  was  any  testimony.  This  was  one 
of  the  last  appearances  of  that  extremely  good  actor 
and  charming  gentleman,  Robert  Tabor.  He  was  an 
American  who  had  made  his  home  in  England  for  some 
time  and  had  gained  troops  of  friends.  Poor  "  Bob  " 
died  shortly  after  this  of  acute  tuberculosis,  to  the  grief 
of  all  who  knew  him.  On  July  23,  1900,  I  played  one 
week  at  the  Coronet  in  conjunction  with  Courtice 
Pounds  and  Holbrook  Blinn,  this  time  an  Indian  chief, 
one  Lonely  Tree,  chief  of  the  Apaches,  in  a  playlet  by 
Basil  Hood  called  The  Great  Silence.  I  had  seen  quite 
a  little  of  Indians  in  my  various  trips  to  America,  and 
I  tried  to  give  a  good  study  of  the  part.  I  also  played 
Old  Heinrik  in  the  two  first  periods  of  Basil  Hood's 
version  of  the  Danish  play  lb  and  Little  Christma.  This 
was  a  very  old  man  indeed  (in  the  second  period  a 
nonagenarian)  and  gave  me  some  amount  of  anxiety, 
but  I  hope,  and  was  assured  by  my  managers,  all  turned 
out  well. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     243 

On  October  6,  1900,  William  Mollison,  who  had  made 
a  good  reputation  in  the  provinces  and  had  also  played 
several  successful  engagements  in  London,  took  the 
Lyceum  for  a  season,  and  opened  with  a  drama  based 
on  the  Boer  War  written  by  Seymour  Hicks  and  F.  G. 
Latham.  It  was  called  For  Auld  Lang  Syne,  and  a 
capital  company  was  engaged  in  it  representation,  in- 
cluding Mollison,  Leonard  Boyne,  W.  L.  Abingdon, 
myself,  Bassett  Roe,  Wilfred  Draycott,  W.  Devereux, 
Misses  Fanny  Brough,  Irene  Rooke,  and  Lily  Hanbury 
in  a  rather  long  cast.  It  was,  however,  received  very 
coldly  by  Press  and  public,  and  was  a  failure,  finishing 
its  run  on  October  31.  This  led  up  to  a  very  interesting 
revival  of  Henry  V.  on  December  22,  1900,  under  the 
joint  management  of  Mollison  and  Lewis  Waller,  which 
was  quite  a  success,  and  but  for  the  lamented  death 
of  our  great  Queen  Victoria,  causing  the  closing  of  the 
theatre  for  about  two  weeks,  would  have  been  still 
more  so.  It  was  doing  finely  when  the  sad  event  oc- 
curred. As  it  was,  it  ran  seventy-nine  nights  up  to 
March  16,  1901,  It  was  not  particularly  well  noticed  by 
the  Press,  but  the  public  liked  it,  and  turned  out  for 
it  in  goodly  numbers.  Lewis  Waller  gave  a  dashing 
performance  of  the  name-part,  especially  in  the  elo- 
cutionary and  declamatory  passages.  In  the  more 
inspired  portions  he  was  not  quite  so  satisfactory.  He 
seemed  to  lack  the  higher  poetic  note  that  carries 
Henry  into  the  realms  of  ecstasy  at  certain  moments 
of  the  play.  Mollison  was  an  admirable  Pistol,  humor- 
ous and  unctuous,  and  his  fine  rolling  voice  was  of 
great  assistance  to   him  in   his   excellent   delineation. 


244  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

E.  M.  Robson  was  a  quaint  and  really  good  Fluellen ; 
Miss  Sarah  Brooke  a  dainty  and  piquant  Princess 
Katherine ;  and  that  beautiful  and  sweet -dispositioned 
woman,  Lily  Hanbury  (cut  off,  alas,  in  her  glorious  young 
womanhood),  looked  an  absolute  Goddess  in  the  robes 
of  Chorus,  and  declaimed  her  speeches  most  tellingly. 
I  played  Williams,  the  bluff  soldier.  Other  parts  were 
ably,  most  of  them  finely,  sustained  by  Norman  McKen- 
nel,  George  Warde,  Arthur  Lewis,  Tom  Heslewood, 
Charles  Rock,  C.  Goodhart,  Gerald  Lawrence,  W. 
Devereux,  Frank  Dyall,  Miss  Zeffie  Tilbury,  and  Miss 
Kate  Phillips. 

February  12,  1901,  was  a  red-letter  day  for  me.  On 
that  day  I  was  installed  Master  of  Drury  Lane  Lodge  of 
Freemasons.  I  had  joined  the  Masonic  Craft  as  far  back 
as  my  stock  days  in  Edinburgh,  1873,  but  after  going 
a  little  way  only  in  the  study  I  let  it  drop  for  a  number  of 
years.  About  1888  or  1889  I  was  induced,  by  my  good 
friend  Harry  Nieholls,  principally,  to  become  a  member 
of  Drury  Lane  Lodge,  and,  with  more  time  to  think 
about  it,  I  soon  became  bitten  with  the  dignity  and  far- 
reaching  good  of  the  craft.  I  became  a  regular  attendant 
at  Lodge  and  a  punctual  student  at  the  Logic  Club  of 
instruction,  and  by  the  time  my  turn  came  to  take 
office  in  the  Lodge  I  was  fairly  proficient.  After  work- 
ing through  the  offices,  beginning  about  1896,  I  reached 
the  Chair  of  the  Lodge  in  1901,  and  I  hope  I  did  my  work 
efficiently.  At  this  time,  it  will  be  remembered,  Eng- 
lish Masons  were  in  rather  an  unsettled  state.  Our 
Queen  was  dead,  and  her  son,  our  then  King,  had 
resigned  the  office  of  Grand  Master,  as  he  was  bound  to 


J.    H.    BARNES    AS    W..M..     |ii;i    l:^      I.Wi;     I. 
NO.     2127,     K.A.M. 


[To  face  pwje  244 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     245 

do  (creating  for  himself  a  new  dignity,  that  of  Grand 
Protector  of  the  Craft),  and  his  successor,  the  Duke  of 
Connaught,  had  not  been  elected.  Rising  to  propose 
the  first  toast  at  the  banquet  following  the  ceremony, 
I  said  I  found  myself  in  rather  a  dilemma.  I  did  not 
suppose  the  company  would  expect  me  to  pass  over 
current  events  without  some  reference  to  the  memory 
of  the  great  monarch  who  had  been  taken  from  us,  but 
that  not  trusting  myself  to  do  justice  to  that  memory 
in  spoken  words  I  had  put  my  thoughts  into  a  few  lines 
which  I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  read.  This  was  a  poem, 
"  Victoria,  1837-1901,"  in  which  I  had  summarised,  in 
a  simple  manner,  her  grand  life  under  the  heading  of 
the  four  seasons,  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn  and  Winter. 
This  proved  very  much  to  the  taste  of  all  present. 
The  Editor  of  The  People,  being  present,  asked  me  for 
a  copy,  which  I  gave  him,  and  it  was  published  in  that 
paper  on  March  3,  1901,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  was 
a  letter  of  thanks  from  his  Majesty  King  Edward  VII. 
for  the  verses.  Who  sent  them  to  the  King  I  do  not 
know,  but  I  plead  guilty  to  sending  them  to  the  Duke 
of  Connaught  after  the  receipt  of  the  first  letter,  and  I 
got  a  most  gracious  reply  from  him  also.  This  is  the 
first  time  that  this  fact  has  been  publicly  announced 
in  England.  Later  on  I  wrote  another  scrap,  entitled 
"  Crowned,"  in  commemoration  of  our  popular  King 
Edward's  deferred  coronation.  I  confess  sending  a 
copy  to  the  King,  the  Prince  of  Wales  (now  King  George 
v.),  and  the  Duke  of  Fife,  and  from  each  of  them  I  got 
a  charming  letter  of  acknowledgment  and  thanks.  I 
endeavoured  to  discharge  my  Masonic  duties  conscien- 


246    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

tiously,  and  it  was  a  great  disappointment  to  me  that 
my  professional  engagements  took  me  to  America  in 
the  autumn,  and  I  was  unable  to  install  my  successor, 
my  old  friend  Luigi  Lablache.  During  my  Masonic 
career,  extending  over  twenty  years,  apart  from  my 
constant  attendance  at  my  own  lodge,  at  which  I  wit- 
nessed eleven  Installations,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  visiting 
the  Asaph,  the  Athelstan,  the  Green  Room,  and  the 
Richard  Eve.  These  were  all  Installation  meetings, 
whilst  I  was  present  at  the  Consecration  of  the  Yorick 
and  the  Hogarth  Lodges.  Amongst  other  events  of 
note  was  a  luncheon  given  by  Drury  Lane  Lodge  to 
Lord  Kitchener,  one  of  its  founders,  December  1,  1898, 
on  his  return  from  Egypt ;  a  visit  by  the  Logic  Club 
to  the  Jubilee  Masters'  Lodge,  at  which  we  gave  a 
most  successful  exposition  of  our  working,  January  5, 
1901 ;  and  the  Installation  of  H.R.H.  the  Duke  of 
Connaught,  as  Grand  Master  of  English  Freemasons, 
at  the  Albert  Hall,  July  17,  1901.  This  latter  was  a 
highly  impressive  event.  The  vast  building  filled  in 
every  corner  with  fully-clad  Masons  made  a  sight  to 
be  remembered,  whilst  the  effect  of  certain  details  in 
the  ceremonial  was  positively  electrical.  During  my 
year  as  Master  I  initiated  at  Drury  Lane  the  late  intrepid 
hero.  Captain  Scott,  into  Masonrj%  and  in  1902  I  took 
the  chair  at  an  important  function  at  the  Logic  Club. 
Though  I  have  abated  no  jot  of  my  admiration  for  the 
tenets,  the  ritual,  and  the  noble  charities  of  the  Masonic 
craft,  I  have  withdra^vn  a  great  deal  from  its  cere- 
monials in  recent  years  for  other  and  weighty  reasons. 
About   the   year   1900    I   conceived   the    notion    of 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     247 

utilising  my  experiences  as  a  public  reader  (in  the  days 
before  I  adopted  the  regular  stage  as  a  profession),  and 
from  that  time  down  to  the  present  have  done  quite 
a  good  deal  of  reciting — sometimes  for  charity,  some- 
times in  the  hope  of  amusing  my  friends,  sometimes 
for  benefits,  and  many  times  under  engagement.  For 
Charity  I  have  recited  for  the  Referee  Children's  Dinner 
Fund  (twice),  St.  Mathias  Church,  Earl's  Court,  Restora- 
tion Fund,  Eustace  Miles 's  Starving  Poor  on  the  Em- 
bankment Fund  (twice).  Heme  Bay  Curate's  Fund, 
Theatrical  Garden  Party,  Playgoers'  Club  Ladies' 
Concert,  Duchess  of  Portland's  Hospital  Fund  at  Not- 
tingham. For  amusement  many  times  at  Masonic 
gatherings,  and  such  meetings  as  the  Eccentric  Club 
ladies'  afternoon,  the  Beaufort  Club  (twice),  the  Bons 
Freres  Club,  etc.  For  benefits,  the  matinee  given  to 
Edward  Swanborough  (son  of  my  old  manageress,  at 
the  Strand  in  1873,  previously  mentioned),  at  the 
Pavilion,  June  1906,  a  matinee  organised  by  Miss 
Ellaline  Terriss  at  the  Queen's  in  aid  of  the  Royal  Free 
Hospital,  December  1907,  and  another  matinee  at  the 
Ardwick  Empire  (whilst  in  Manchester,  January,  1909) 
for  the  funds  of  the  infirmary  and  Ardwick  Empire  Cot. 
In  the  way  of  engagements  for  a  fee  I  have  appeared  at 
the  Old  Acquaintance  Musical  Society's  concerts  (twice). 
Brighton  Palace  Pier  concerts  (Sunday  afternoon  and 
evening),  Stationers'  Old  Boys'  Society  (four  times). 
Vaudeville  Dramatic  Club,  and  at  the  National  Sunday 
League  concerts  (eighty-nine  times). 

This  latter  movement  is  one  in  which  I  take  a  very 
keen  interest,  and  I  firmly  believe  it  is  doing  good  work. 


248    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Outside  the  question  of  money  earned,  it  is  a  matter 
of  considerable  self-gratification  to  find  oneself  taking 
part  in  a  programme  that  appears  to  afford  such  genuine 
enjoyment  to  a  large  number  of  people  who  are  being 
uplifted  by  fine  music  and  other  intellectual  items, 
and  who,  but  for  these  concerts,  would  be  far  less  pro- 
fitably employed,  as  was  the  case  before  this  movement 
was  inaugurated.  I  have  given  myself  a  considerable 
amount  of  work  to  please  these  various  audiences  in 
and  all  about  London,  I  have  also  had  happy  ex- 
periences (three  times)  at  the  Beckenham  Pleasant 
Sunday  Afternoon  Society  at  the  invitation  of  my  old 
and  valued  friend  Albert  Neville.  He  is  the  son  of 
that  fine  actor  and  good  fellow  the  late  Henry  Neville. 
As  a  boy  he  was  very  anxious  to  follow  in  his  father's 
footsteps  and  join  the  theatrical  profession,  but  that 
father,  who  had  realised  the  precarious  nature  of  the 
calling,  persuaded  him  to  become  "  a  man  of  business," 
and  it  is  a  matter  of  rejoicing  to  an  enormous  circle  of 
friends,  who  love  him,  that  he  followed  that  sound 
advice  with  the  best  result.  Albert  is  a  successful 
and  well-off  man.  In  Freemasonry  he  found  the 
outlet  for  his  gifts  of  memory  and  elocution,  which  he 
had  felt  as  a  boy,  and  he  is,  perhaps,  a  little  the  best 
exponent  of  the  Masonic  Ritual  I  have  ever  heard.  A 
kind,  good  fellow,  he  is  in  complete  sympathy  with  the 
sentiments  he  has  to  utter,  and  he  delivers  them  with 
unusual  charm  and  impressiveness.  I  can  never  forget 
being  present  on  an  occasion  when  his  father  heard  him 
for  the  first  time  take  a  prominent  part  in  a  ceremony 
of  which  he,  the  father,  was  only  a  good  (not  a  great) 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     249 

exponent.  It  was  a  most  human  and  pathetic  moment, 
in  which  he  reahsed  not  only  his  son's  great  proficiency, 
but  also  the  possibilities  of  distinction  in  the  walk  of 
life  that  he  had  himself  adorned,  which  had  animated 
and  slumbered  in  his  boy's  mind  from  youth  upwards. 
On  the  occasion  of  Albert's  installation  as  Master  of 
Drury  Lane  Lodge  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  propose  Henry 
Neville's  health  amongst  others,  and  I  ventured  to 
suggest  the  happiness  the  occasion  must,  perforce, 
afford  him.  In  his  reply  he  acknowledged  that  happiness 
in  most  felicitous  terms,  and  added  :  "  My  son  has  never 
given  me  a  moment's  uneasiness  since  he  was  born." 
If  it  is  true  that  the  Recording  Angel  is  ever  present, 
that  statement  ought  to  mean  a  good  big  mark  in  Albert's 
favour  (as  Mephistopheles  says  in  Faust)  "  by  and  by." 

The  late  awful  death  of  Richard  Green  reminds  me 
that  on  April  15,  1901,  I  recited  two  items  of  my  own 
writing  at  a  matinee  benefit  concert  for  him  at  Stein - 
way  Hall,  and  for  the  first  time  to  a  musical  accompani- 
ment. Mr.  Stanley  Hawley,  well  known  as  a  London 
organist  and  composer,  had  asked  permission  to  set 
my  poem,  "  The  Mission  of  Judas,"  to  music.  I  cheer- 
fully consented,  and  we  tried  it  together  for  the  first 
time  on  this  occasion,  he  playing  his  own  composition. 
The  effect  seemed  satisfactory,  but  it  was  a  strange  and 
not  easy  thing  to  do.  "  The  Far  West  "  was  my  other 
contribution.  Poor  Dick  Green  !  He  had  been  in 
trouble  and  hard  luck  for  years,  but  who  would  have 
thought  he  would  take  his  own  life  in  the  way  he  did  ? 
I  am  not  a  musician,  though  very  fond  of  music;  but 
a  great  authority,  a  friend  of  his  and  mine,  told  me 


250    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

recently  that  Dick's  troubles  were  inevitable,  for  the 
reason  that  his  voice  and  talents  were  never  quite  good 
enough  for  the  position  to  which  he  aspired,  and  in 
which  he  for  a  time  considered  he  was  firmly  estab- 
lished. 


XXVI 

That  April  15  was  an  eventful  day  for  me,  as  in  the 
evening  I  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  the  part  of 
Menenius  Agrippa  in  Sir  Henry  Irving's  production 
of  Coriolanus  at  the  Lyceum,  and  made  one  of  my  best 
successes  in  London.  It  cannot  be  said  that  Irving's 
performance  of  the  name  part  was  one  of  his  strongest 
impersonations.  His  expression  of  biting  sarcasm  and 
withering  contempt  for  his  foes  was  magnificent;  and 
a  thing  to  be  remembered ;  but  he  lacked  the  physique 
for  the  warrior  scenes  of  the  part,  and  altogether  failed 
to  convey  that  side  of  the  character.  Neither  was 
Miss  Ellen  Terry  happy  in  Volumnia.  Though  her  old 
charm  was  in  evidence  at  every  turn,  her  feeling,  as 
expressed,  was  rather  that  of  a  sweetheart  than  the  love 
of  a  Roman  mother  for  a  Spartan  son,  and  many  of  the 
scenes  were  unconvincing.  The  Press  were  divided 
in  their  opinions,  but  on  the  whole  lukewarm,  and  no 
one  held  his  own  or  fared  better  in  their  judgments  than 
Menenius.  I  enjoyed  playing  the  part  immensely; 
humorous,  straightforward,  and  intensely  human,  he 
is  a  splendid  foil  to  the  somewhat  gloomy  principals, 
and  is  always  welcome  to  the  audience  in  scenes  that 
are  amongst  the  most  natural  of  the  play.  Good  per- 
formances came  from  Miss  Maud  Milton,  James  Hearn, 
Laurence  Irving,  and  others,  but  the  production  was  not 

251 


252    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

a  brilliant  success,  and  gave  way  to  the  repertory  of  the 
Lyceum  Theatre  in  about  two  months.  I  played  Lefe- 
bvre  {Sans-GSne)  June  10;  Marquis  of  Huntley  [King 
Charles  I.)  June  24;  Coitier  {Louis  XI.)  July  1,  and 
Menenius  for  the  last  night  of  the  season,  July  20.  Imme- 
diately on  my  success  in  Coriolanus  I  had  been  engaged 
for  the  rest  of  the  London  season  and  the  autumn  tour 
in  England  and  the  United  States  for  the  parts  mentioned. 
I  had  been  in  treaty  with  Mr.  R.  Flanagan,  of  the 
Queen's,  Manchester,  to  play  Falstaff  in  a  revival  of 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Wi^idsor  at  his  theatre  at  Christmas, 
but  nothing  had  been  settled,  and  I  fear  Mr.  Flanagan 
was  a  little  angry  at  the  time  that  I  chose  to  take  the 
longer  and  better  engagement,  though  we  have  been 
quite  good  friends  since.  He  was  also  considerably 
astonished  when  I  told  him  that  Falstaff  in  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor  is  not  a  great  "  catch  "  to  play  and  is 
not  a  very  good  part ;  but  I  had  the  authority  of  some 
one  who  knew  much  more  about  it  than  either  he  or  I 
for  saying  so.  It  may  be  taken  as  an  axiom  that  plays 
written  to  order  are  rarely  good  ones,  and  nearly  always 
show  the  mechanism  pretty  strongly,  and  it  is  recorded 
that  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  was  written  by  Shake- 
speare at  the  special  request  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who 
desired  to  see  the  Fat  Knight  brought  under  female 
influence — in  other  words,  in  love  scenes.  Assuredly, 
the  play  bears  out  this  idea — it  cannot  be  called  a  good 
one,  and  Falstaff  is  most  certainly  secondary  to  the  Wives 
if  not  to  other  parts,  in  this  instance.  Of  course,  if 
an  artist  has  played  the  real  great  Falstaff  in  Henry  IV., 
Part  I,  and  his  name  is  associated  with  it,  he  can  well 
afford  to  play  that  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor^  and 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     253 

the  audience  will  receive  him  with  acclamation  therein. 
Otherwise  he  is  liable  to  be  disappointed  in  a  part  which 
does  not  present  the  chances  it  is  supposed  to. 

The  tour  of  the  Lyceum  company  began  on  September 
2,  and  we  visited  Manchester,  Glasgow,  Leeds,  and 
Birmingham,  and  in  each  of  these  places  the  same  story 
had  to  be  told  about  Coriolanus — poor  notices  in  the 
Press  generally  and  individually,  except  for  Menenius, 
and  poor  business,  and  finally  it  was  determined  to  cut 
the  play  out  of  the  repertory  and  not  take  it  to  America 
at  all.  No  one  could  blame  the  management.  It  meant 
a  great  deal  of  extra  expense,  and  it  was  not  a  paying 
investment.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  genuine  disappoint- 
ment to  me.  Coriolanus  had  not  been  seen  for  many 
years,  and  Menenius  meant  for  me  as  much  as  a  good 
original  part  in  which  I  had  hoped  to  please  my  American 
friends,  but  it  was  not  to  be,  and  it  was  no  good  worrying 
over  it.  Of  course,  in  the  princely  arrangements  of 
Sir  Henry  Irving  it  made  no  difference  to  my  engage- 
ment, and  we  sailed  from  Tilbury  on  the  s.s.  Minnehaha 
(Captain  Robinson)  on  October  5,  1901.  The  voyage 
was  an  exceptionally  pleasant  one.  As  will  be  gathered 
from  my  earliest  notes,  I  had  known  a  great  many 
mutual  friends  of  Sir  Henry's  in  my  salad  days.  Natur- 
ally, when  he  achieved  his  big  position  in  life  our  ways 
lay  a  good  deal  asunder,  but  on  this  trip  the  gap  seemed 
to  be  closed  up  again.  He  invited  me  constantly  to 
dine  with  him  in  his  private  room,  and,  in  company  with 
his  friend  Joe  Parkinson  (who  was  also  a  great  Masonic 
friend  of  mine),  and  who  made  the  trip  both  ways  with 
us,  we  had  some  delightful  hours,  chatting  over  old  times 
and  old  associations,  and  no  man  on  earth  could  have 


254    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

been    kinder    or    more    positively    brotherly    than    he 
was. 

We  opened  in  New  York  at  the  Knickerbocker 
Theatre,  October  21,  and  after  four  weeks  there  started 
on  a  full  tour  of  the  country  east  of  the  Rockies.  We 
went  to  Philadelphia  after  New  York,  and  whilst  there 
the  thirtieth  anniversary  occurred  of  Irving's  first  night 
of  The  Bells  in  London  and  of  my  first  appearance  on 
the  stage  as  his  "  double."  This  was  on  November  25,  I 
thought  it  a  fitting  occasion  to  write  him  a  little  note  of 
remembrance  and  good  wishes.  To  it  I  received  the 
following  pretty  and  sympathetic  reply — 

"  The  BeUevue, 

"  Broad  and  Walnut  Streets, 
"  Philadelphia. 

"  My  dear  Barnes, 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  wishes,  which  I  wish 
back  with  all  my  heart.  Thirty  years  !  Friends  are 
fewer,  and  kind  words  are  precious,  and  again  I  thank 
you  for  a  remembrance  which  has  touched  my  heart. 
God  bless  you,  old  friend. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  Henry  Irving. 
"  November  25,  1901." 

A  great  man,  my  masters  !  Great  in  big  things  and 
great  in  little  things  as  well.  We  finished  our  tour 
at  Harlem,  March  17,  1902,  and  sailed  from  New  York  by 
the  s.s.  Minneapolis  (Captain  F.  F.  Gates)  on  March  22. 
Sir  Henry  Irving  greatly  affected  The  Atlantic  Transport 
line  of  steamers  and,  as  in  other  matters,  his  good 
judgment  was  proverbial. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     255 

On  the  voyage  out  to  America  (October  1901)  a 
gentleman  connected  with  journalism  in  the  State  of 
Connecticut  was  pleasantly  impressed  with  some  of  my 
poems  and  asked  me  for  copies  of  them,  and  a  series 
was  reprinted  in  newspapers  in  Manchester,  Conn., 
and  Hartford,  Conn.  I  had  one  amusing  experience 
with  Irving  during  the  tour.  As  was  well  known,  he 
had  a  remarkable  faculty  for  putting  an  enormous 
amount  of  meaning  into  the  shortest  possible  sentences, 
and  many  instances  are  remembered  of  the  smart  things 
he  said — cynical,  satirical,  and  amusing — in  a  word  or 
two,  only.  Once  at  the  Green  Room  Club  he  was  being 
bored  by  a  schoolfellow  and  fellow-actor,  who  was  very 
much  of  a  pensioner  of  his,  with  a  story  of  meeting  a 
mutual  schoolfellow  in  a  picture  gallery  in  Paris.  All 
we  heard  was  this  :  "  And  you  know,  Harry,  he  came 
up  to  me  and  said  :  '  Surely  your  name  is  Fletcher?  '  " 
Irving  replied,  "  And  was  it?  "  What  more  could  be 
said  ?  His  quip  with  me  was  as  follows  : — We  had 
played  a  week  of  two-night  stands — Indianapolis, 
Columbus,  O.,  and  Toledo,  O.  It  so  fell  out  that  I  was 
not  concerned  in  the  programme  all  the  week,  and  although 
journeying  with  the  company  in  the  ordinary  way  I 
had  not  appeared,  or  met  him,  from  the  one  Saturday 
night  to  the  next.  The  play  was  Louis  XI.  I  had 
played  my  first  scene  as  Coitier,  and  was  waiting  to  go 
on  with  him  for  his  first  entrance.  Coming  from  his 
dressing-room  with  his  usual  formidable  array  of  retainers 
he  looked  at  me  with  a  suggestive  sly  twinkle  in  his 
eye  and  said,  inquiringly:  "All  right?"  I  replied, 
"  Yes,  thanks,  very  well  indeed."  A  moment's  pause 
and  he  said,  "  Ah,  tired?  " 


XXVII 

Having  now  arrived  at  the  year  1902, 1  do  not  suppose 
my  readers  will  expect  me  to  deal  as  exhaustively  with 
events  which  come  within  the  memory  of  many ;  so  for 
this  and  other  reasons  I  propose  to  pass  many  of  them 
more  cursorily  than  in  my  preceding  pages.  On 
April  28,  1902,  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree  celebrated  the  fifth 
anniversary  of  his  management  of  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre,  1897-1902.  The  play  was  Ulysses,  by  Stephen 
Phillips,  but  a  special  souvenir  programme  was  given 
away  containing  photographs  of  all  the  important 
artists  who  had  appeared  there  during  those  years. 
Looking  back  on  it  now  it  seems  a  pretty  comprehensive 
gallery  of  all  the  leading  lights  of  the  London  stage. 
May  1,  1902,  saw  the  production  at  the  Adelphi  by  Miss 
Olga  Nethersole  of  the  play  of  Sapho  by  Clyde  Fitch. 
The  French  book,  by  Alphonse  Daudet,  was  a  rather 
lurid  affair,  and  the  play  done  from  it  was  rather  lurid 
too,  and  I  fear  our  star's  performance  of  the  leading 
role  did  not  do  much  to  tone  down  its  luridness.  It 
was  fairly  noticed,  and  the  business  was  quite  good  for 
eleven  weeks,  finishing  July  11.  I  played  Dechelette, 
and  others  in  the  cast  were  Frank  Mills,  Eric  Lewis, 
Holbrook  Blinn,  W.  H.  Day,  Misses  Olga  Nethersole, 
Rosina  Fillipi,  Gladys  Homfray.  I  have  previously 
stated  how  much  I  admired  Miss  Nethersole's  acting 

256 


FORTY    YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     257 

on  former  occasions.  I  fear  she  had  not  improved  in 
the  interim.  I  suppose  the  desire  to  become  a  star  and 
one's  own  master  or  mistress  and  make  big  money  is 
a  natural  one,  but  it  is  not  always  conducive  to  good  art, 
and  I  don't  wish  to  be  ungallant  to  Miss  N.,  for  whom 
I  have  a  very  genuine  regard,  when  I  say  that  it  appeared 
as  if  the  "  reaching  out "  to  capture  and  impress  all 
sorts  of  indiscriminate  audiences  in  all  manner  of  sized 
theatres  had  brought  into  her  work  an  amount  of  elabora- 
tion which  obscured  her  own  innate  and  clever  ideals, 
and  much  of  her  old  charm  was  submerged  beneath  a 
vortex  of  detail  which  often  blurred  and  delayed  the 
dramatic  action.  It  is  an  immense  advantage  to  us  all 
to  have  some  one  whose  judgment  we  can  rely  on,  not 
only  to  tell  us  what  to  do,  but  also  what  not  to  do.  And 
this  brings  me  to  a  reflection,  absolutely  impersonal, 
which  occurs  to  me  as  bearing  on  our  calling  in  the 
broadest  general  way.  My  observation  teaches  me 
that  there  are  three  distinctly  marked  periods  apparent 
in  the  careers  of  every  artist  of  front  rank  whose  work 
I  have  followed.  First,  when  they  can  do  little  or 
nothing;  second,  when  they  do  far  too  much;  and, 
third,  when  they  settle  down  to  what  may  be  called 
repose  and  art.  Many  never  get  beyond  the  first  mark. 
Hundreds  stop  at  the  second,  and  those  who  reach  the 
third  are  usually  famous  and  honoured  alike  by  the 
public  and  their  fellow-artists.  The  misleading  danger 
of  the  stage  as  a  calling  is  its  kindness  to  mediocrity. 
Any  young  man  of  fair  appearance,  with  credit  at  his 
tailor's,  and  a  little  influence,  can  go  on  the  stage  and  get 
three,  four,  or  even  five  pounds  a  week  to  start  with, 
whereas  if  you  advertise  a  post,  say,  of  a  clerkship  or 


258    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

secretaryship  at  a  similar  income  (£200  a  year)  you  will 
receive  hundreds  of  applications  from  men  of  university 
education  who  can  write  B.A.  or  M.A.  after  their  names, 
and  whose  capacity  is  undoubted.  When  I  was  a  boy 
it  used  to  be  said  that  the  Church  was  the  outlet  for  all 
the  younger  and  least  talented  sons  of  the  county 
families,  etc.,  and  certainly  the  rural  districts  did  present 
some  curious  specimens,  here  and  there,  of  gentlemen, 
who  had  bought  or  been  presented  with  "  livings " 
or  advowsons.  That  is  all  changed  now,  and  the  stage 
has  become  the  dumping  ground  of  the  failures  and 
"  ne'er-do-wells  "  of  every  class  of  society  and  social 
grade.  The  influx  has  been,  and  is  to-day,  absolutely 
appalling.  And  once  brought  within  the  lure  of  the 
footlights,  they  rarely  leave  it.  Mistaking  a  taste  for  a 
talent,  they  think  they  would  like  to  be  actors,  and  that 
that  fact  makes  them  so.  It  is  most  tragic.  With 
no  aptitude  for  the  stage,  and  not  much  aptitude 
for  anything  else,  they  have  never  read  the  poets 
of  the  language  and  know  nothing  of  its  litera- 
ture. They  spend  their  youth  in  idleness  and  mild 
indifference,  their  middle-age  in  carping  at  and  criticising 
their  harder-working  and  more  successful  brethren, 
and  their  old  age  as  the  recipients  of  the  theatrical 
charities.  Ask  any  of  the  committee  of  these  charities 
if  I  am  right,  especially  those  whose  duties  include 
the  dispensing  of  funds,  and  they  will  tell  you,  as  I  do, 
that  not  once  a  month  do  they  receive  an  application 
from  any  one  whose  name  they  ever  heard  in  connection 
with  the  actor's  art,  though  applicants  abound  in  hun- 
dreds, and  I  have  known  cases  where  respected  artists. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     259 

having  a  bad  time,  and  too  proud  to  apply  to  a  Fund, 
have  been  asked  by  a  committee  to  accept  a  temporary 
loan  to  tide  them  over  a  chasm  till  the  clouds  rolled  away 
and  a  better  time  asserted  itself.  All  this  is,  to  me,  quite 
the  most  pitiful  phase  of  the  theatrical  profession  of 
the  present  day,  and  I  make  no  apology  for  my  digression 
in  order  to  call  attention  to  it. 

On  May  27,  1902,  a  matinee  of  Rosetnary,  with  nearly 
all  the  original  cast,  was  given  at  Wyndham's  under  the 
patronage  of  the  Queen  and  a  numerous  committee  of 
the  aristocracy  and  others,  in  aid  of  the  fund  for  provid- 
ing a  new  open-air  sanatorium  for  the  City  of  London 
Hospital  for  Diseases  of  the  Chest,  at  Victoria  Park. 

July  14, 15, 16, 1  played  Coitier  in  Louis  XI.,  for  three 
nights  at  the  Lyceum,  a  special  engagement. 

On  August  9, 1  witnessed,  with  my  wife,  the  procession 
of  the  deferred  coronation  of  our  great  King  Edward 
VII.  from  the  window  of  a  relative,  who  was  a  highly- 
placed  official  at  the  old  War  Office  in  Pall  Mall.  The 
military  display  was  most  brilliant,  and  it  was  altogether 
a  noble  and  impressive  sight. 

September  20  found  me  at  the  Apollo  playing  in  a 
comedy  by  Gilbert  Dayle,  entitled  What  Would  a  Gentle- 
man Do  ?  Amongst  my  comrades  were  Frank  Mills, 
Dennis  Eadie,  Fred  Emney,  Louis  Bradfield,  Misses 
Nina  Boucicault,  Beatrice  Ferrar,  Marie  Illington,  and 
Enid  Spencer-Brunton.  It  was  a  bright  little  play,  but 
it  did  not  succeed,  and  only  ran  about  four  weeks, 
till  October  18.  On  the  first  night  one  comedy  point 
evoked  a  most  prolonged  round  of  applause.  The  strong- 
willed  woman  (played  by  Miss  Illington),  with  the  usual 


260    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

good  heart,  and  managing  everybody's  business  in  the 
play,  decided  to  refund  to  the  Hght  comedian  some  money 
he  had  lent,  with  a  motive,  to  her  ne'er-do-well  nephew. 
The  said  comedian  objected  to  take  it.  Seating  herself 
at  a  writing-desk,  she  drew  out  a  cheque-book,  wrote  a 
cheque  hurriedly,  and  handed  it  to  him,  without  looking, 
saying,  "  Whatever  else  I  am,  at  least  I'm  a  business 
woman  !  "  He  glanced  at  the  cheque  without  taking  it, 
and  said  quietly,  "  Well,  you  might  sign  it !  "  I  am 
not  quite  certain  that  this  play  was  cast  to  the  best 
advantage  in  one  or  two  parts.  Some  time  afterwards 
I  negotiated  it  for  Nat  Goodwin  to  play  in  the  U.S.  He 
appeared  very  enthusiastic  about  it  when  he  secured 
the  option,  but,  from  some  cause,  he  weakened  before 
the  time  came  to  do  it,  and  its  first  night  in  New  York 
was  a  poor  production,  spoilt  by  lack  of  earnestness  on 
his  own  part  and  that  of  others,  and  it  failed  again.  I 
honestly  think  Mr.  Dayle  and  his  play  deserved  better 
luck. 

November  17,  1902,  I  went  with  Sir  Charles  Wyndham 
to  Brighton  for  a  week.  The  plays  were  David  Garrick 
and  Rosemary,  but  I  only  played  in  the  latter.  Business 
enormous.  At  this  time  I  was  engaged  by  my  old  friend 
George  Edwardes  to  play  a  character  part  in  a  musical 
comedy,  but  the  part  turned  out  really  no  good  at  all, 
and  I  transferred  my  allegiance  to  Sir  Charles  Wyndham, 
who  paid  me  a  retaining  salary  to  hold  myself  for  the 
opening  of  the  New,  then  nearing  completion.  The 
New  opened  March  19,  1903,  with  Rosemary,  and  nearly 
all  the  original  cast.  We  also  played  the  same  enter- 
tainment for  one  matinee  at  Brighton  for  the  opening 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     261 

of  the  New  West  Pier  theatre.  I  don't  know  if  the  revival 
was  too  soon  after  the  original  run  of  the  play,  but  the 
business  was  only  fair,  and  the  run  finished  on  April  18. 
The  Press  notices,  general  and  personal,  were  as  good 
as  ever.  From  April  20  to  25  we  did  a  week  of  "  flying 
visits  "  to  Swansea,  Bristol,  Plymouth,  Exeter,  Bourne- 
mouth (Boscombe),  and  had  erammed  houses  everywhere. 
Plays,  David  Garrick  and  Rosemary ;  again  I  only  played 
in  the  latter.  After  this  two  weeks  of  Rosemary,  at 
Wyndham's,  April  25.  The  usual  good  notices  but 
business  moderate  only.  The  Eccentric  Club  gave  a 
supper  (and  dance)  in  honour  of  Sir  Charles  Wyndham, 
April  16,  at  which  he  took  the  chair  and  made  a  most 
eloquent  and  witty  speech.  As  the  fore-mentioned 
engagements  are  the  last  times  I  played  with  Charles 
Wyndham,  except  in  the  case  of  a  benefit  or  two,  I  take 
it  for  granted  I  shall  be  expected  to  say  something  about 
him,  and  yet  what  more  is  there  to  be  said  than  my 
readers  and  the  public  know  ?  He  has  done  such  brilliant 
work  on  the  stage  of  the  last  many  years,  and  his  name 
is  so  associated  with  much  of  what  is  best  dramatically, 
that  an  appreciation  from  me  must  appear  more  or  less 
fulsome.  And  yet  my  memory  of  him  extends  such  a 
distance  back  that  a  few  notes  may  be  interesting. 
His  father  was  connected  with  the  medical  profession, 
and  he  himself  was  trained  for  a  doctor;  indeed,  he 
practised  as  one  in  the  American  Civil  War,  but  forsook 
that  profession  for  the  stage  at  the  close  of  hostilities 
or  thereabouts.  I  saw  him  at  the  old  Queen's  in  the 
late  sixties,  playing  Captain  Hawkesley  in  Still  Waters 
Run  Deep,  to  the  John  Mildmay  of  Alfred  Wigan  (the 


262    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

original),  and  in  the  big  casts,  at  the  same  theatre, 
which  played  Dearer  than  Life  and  The  Lancashire  Lass, 
and  which  included  Irving,  Toole,  Brough,  Sam  Emery 
(a  fine  actor),  Miss  Hodson,  pretty  and  sweet,  Nelly 
Moore,  and  many  others  whose  names  were  household 
words.  I  remember  him  at  the  St.  James's  in  a  curious 
play  from  the  French  of  Sardou  {Daniel  Rochat).  Then 
when  Messrs.  Spiers  and  Pond  had  grown  tired  of  trying, 
in  vain,  to  make  the  Criterion  a  success  he  became  the 
lessee,  and  has  remained  so  to  this  day,  I  think,  without 
intermission.  At  the  Criterion  in  its  early  days  he 
started  a  series  of  brilliant  farcical  comedies,  some  of 
them,  like  The  Pink  Dominos,  a  little  risky,  but  all  great 
moneymakers  in  London  and  the  provinces,  with  numer- 
ous companies.  From  these  he  gradually  developed  a 
better  standard  of  play  and  acted  many  of  the  well- 
known  works,  in  turn,  such  as  London  Assurance,  School 
jar  Scandal,  Still  Waters  Run  Deep  (himself  as  Mildmay, 
(1890),  Rosemary,  etc.,  etc.,  and  so  on  by  degrees  his 
art  maturing  and  growing  till  be  became,  and  has 
remained,  an  idol  of  the  London  public  and  a  consum- 
mate artist  in  every  and  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 
His  Mildmay  did  not  make  us  forget  Wigan,  and  his 
David  Garrick  did  not  efface  that  of  the  elder  Sothern, 
but  they  were  both  admirable  performances.  Perhaps 
he  made  a  mistake  to  tackle  Cyrano  de  Bergerac,  but  it 
did  not  count  much  against  him.  He  was  too  firmly 
placed  in  the  affections  of  the  people,  and  it  is  a  great 
characteristic  of  London  audiences  that  they  are  more 
loyal  than  any  other  public  in  the  world  to  the  favourites 
they  have  learned  to  love.     Such  was,  and  is,  Wyndham's 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     263 

position  to-day,  firmly  fixed  in  the  public  regard.  He 
also  carried  the  banner  of  English  art  abroad,  playing, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  in  Paris,  Brussels,  Berlin,  and  St. 
Petersburg,  and,  I  think,  other  Continental  cities. 
Long  may  he  live  to  enjoy  his  well-earned  rest,  his  com- 
fortable fortune,  and  the  esteem  of  all  classes  of  the  public 
as  well  as  the  knighthood  with  which  his  King  honoured 
him. 

As  well  as  being  still  lessee  of  the  Criterion,  he  built 
and  is  proprietor  of  Wyndham's  and  the  New.  His 
leading  lady,  Miss  Mary  Moore,  made  her  first  appearance 
at  the  old  Gaiety  theatre  at  the  time  I  was  there  in 
the  late  seventies — a  pretty,  timid,  little  gentlewoman, 
anxious  to  earn  her  living.  She  soon  became  the  wife 
of  that  very  clever  dramatist,  James  Albery,  before- 
mentioned.  Associated  with  a  brilliant  actor  and 
admirable  stage-director  like  Charles  Wyndham,  she 
steadily  progressed  in  her  art,  and  in  recent  years  has 
made  several  marked  successes,  such  as,  for  instance, 
in  Mrs.  Gorringe's  Necklace.  Report  has  it  that  in 
pecuniary  matters  she  has  been  even  more  successful, 
and,  as  a  partner  in  many  of  Sir  Charles's  business 
projects,  is  quite  well  off.  If  so,  it  would  be  but  a  just 
reward  for  one  great  feature  of  her  life — her  intense 
love  of,  and  care,  in  bringing  up  and  educating  her  sons, 
in  which  respect  she  has  ever  shown  the  very  highest 
qualities  of  motherhood. 

The  last  performance  at  the  old  Gaiety  took  place 
July  4,  1903,  when  many  old  comrades  and  associates 
gathered  to  bid  good-bye  to  a  place  endeared  to  all  of 
us  by  memories  of  happy  times.     It  then  closed  its 


264    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

doors  for  ever,  to  make  way  for  its  present  palatial, 
if  somewhat  gloomy-looking  successor,  and,  incidentally, 
for  a  new  section  of  London  itself.  One  rubs  one's  eyes 
in  wonder  when  one  looks  at  what  is  in  that  neighbour- 
hood and  remembers  what  was. 


XXVIII 

On  July  14,  1903,  a  benefit  matinee  took  place  at 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  for  that  progressive  institution, 
the  Actors'  Association.  The  Merchant  of  Venice  was 
the  play,  with  Irving,  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  and  all  the 
prominent  actors  of  the  London  stage  playing  the  parts, 
down  to  the  very  smallest.  Those  for  whom  no  speak- 
ing parts  could  be  found  walked  on  and  were  grouped 
in  the  Casket  scene.  I  played  the  Duke  of  Venice. 
A  feature  of  the  entertainment  was  the  presentation 
of  a  souvenir  programme  to  every  one  in  the  audience, 
containing  a  reproduction  of  the  autographs  of  every 
artist  connected  with  the  performance.  This  was  the 
last  time  I  played  with  Sir  Henry  Irving. 

The  autumn  of  1903,   September  17,  saw  produced 

at  Drury  Lane  a  drama  by  Henry  Hamilton  and  Cecil 

Raleigh  called  The  Flood  Tide.     It  ran  the  usual  course 

at  that  theatre  up  to  December  1,  when  it  made  way 

for    the    preparations    for    the    pantomine.     A    strong 

company  played  it,  Messrs.  Weedon  Grossmith,  C.  W. 

Somerset,  myself,  R.  Minster,  J.  Tresahar,  N.  McKinnel, 

Miss  Margaret  Halstan,  Miss  Daisy  Thimm,  Mrs.  Beer- 

bohm  Tree,  and  a  very  clever  soubrette  named  Miss 

Claire  Romaine.     It  was  not  one  of  the  best  of  the 

Drury  Lane  plays  and  the  business  was  not  colossal, 

265 


266    FORTY   YEARS    ON   THE   STAGE 

but  I  was  told,  on  excellent  authority,  that  it  was  ex- 
ceptionally successful  afterwards  in  the  London  suburbs 
and  the  provincial  towns. 

On  October  6,  a  testimonial  matinee  was  given  at 
the  Haymarket  Theatre  to  that  excellent  actor  and 
popular  typical  Englishman  John  Billington  (husband  of 
the  Mrs.  Billington  previously  alluded  to).  It  was  an 
event  in  which  everybody  joined  with  all  possible  good- 
will. A  splendid  committee  was  formed  of  leading 
actors,  joined  by  a  long  list  of  names  famous  in  other 
arts,  science,  and  commerce.  That  brilliant  artist  Tom 
Brow^ne  designed  the  programme.  Selections  were 
given  from  popular  plays,  The  Last  of  the  Dandies,  Mrs. 
Gorringe's  Necklace,  Waterloo,  The  Monkey^s  Paw,  etc., 
with  Tree,  Wyndham,  Miss  Moore,  Irving,  Cyril  Maude, 
Sydney  Valentine,  Miss  Lena  Ashwell,  the  Grossmiths, 
and  their  many  associates,  and  the  whole  affair  was  a 
signal  success.  John  Billington  made  a  most  feeling 
and  pathetic  little  speech  at  the  end,  and  a  good  many 
old  friends  found  themselves  greatly  sympathising  with 
the  passing  of  such  a  good  fellow.  For  many  j^^ears  he 
had  been  a  member  of  the  great  company  engaged  by 
Ben  Webster  at  the  Adelphi,  where  his  wife  was  also 
engaged.  "When  that  company  dispersed  he  travelled 
the  provinces  with  Mrs.  Billington  for  some  years  in 
different  plays  of  which  they  held  the  rights.  In  their 
company  was  their  niece.  Miss  Ellen  Meyrick,  an  excel- 
lent actress,  who  afterwards  became  IVIrs.  Fred  Burgess, 
her  husband  being  part -proprietor  of  the  Moore  and 
Burgess  Minstrels.  After  that  John  settled  down  as 
stage  manager,  and  playing  many  parts,  with  his  old 
friend  J.  L.  Toole,  at  Toole's  and  went  with  him  on 


Photo] 


["  The  Pliiij  Pictorial  " 

J.    H.    BARNES    AS    JOHN    PEERYBINGLE 

("The  Cricket,  on  the  Hearth") 


[To  face  page  267 


I 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     267 

his  numerous  tours  until  Toole  retired,  as  before  stated, 
from  ill-health.  Billington  was  a  very  excellent  actor 
indeed,  with  a  breezy,  natural  method  that  was  most 
captivating.  In  parts  of  good  rugged  manhood,  such 
as  in  Rough  and  Ready  by  Paul  Merritt,  he  had  few 
equals,  no  superiors.  He  was  a  splendid  raconteur, 
and  some  of  his  Yorkshire  stories,  of  which  county  he 
was  a  native,  were  humorous  and  droll  in  the  extreme. 
Altogether  a  dowairight  good  comrade,  socially  and  pro- 
fessionally. 

I  had  left  Drury  Lane  three  days  before  the  run  of 
The  Flood  Tide  finished,  November  28,  by  courtesj'^  of 
Mr.  Arthur  Collins,  having  been  offered  an  engagement 
by  Mr.  Arthur  Bourchier  to  play  John  Peerybingle  in 
a  revival  of  The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  at  the  Garrick. 
This  production  took  place  December  1,  1903,  and  ran 
till  February  13,  1904.  It  turned  out  very  luckily  for 
me.  In  the  version  we  did,  John  was  an  unusually 
good  part.  He  had  a  dream  scene  with  the  little  dancing 
fairies  not  generally  included,  and  I  thoroughly  en- 
joyed playing  him.  I  appeared  to  please  my  audiences 
very  much  as  well.  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Bourchier's  phy- 
sique was  not  suited  to  the  part  of  Caleb  Plummer. 
Mrs.  Bourchier  gave  a  vivid  and  pathetic  rendering  of 
Blind  Bertha.  Jerrold  Robertshaw  was  the  best  Tackle- 
tom  I  have  ever  seen  He  seemed  to  have  walked  out 
of  the  pages  of  Dickens.  Jessie  Bateman  was  a  most 
sweet,  pretty,  and  lovable  Dot ;  Lizzie  Webster  a 
thoroughly  droll  and  natural  Tilly  Slowboy.  Other 
parts  were  well  played  by  Frank  Mills  (Ned  Plummer) 
and  Elfrida  Clement  (May  Fielding).  Dorothy  Grim- 
ston  and  Madge  Titheradge  were  the  leading  fairies, 


268    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

and  the  latter,  who  has  since  become  a  distinguished 
actress,  looked  a  "  dream  "  and  danced  delightfully. 
The  play  was  received  with  qualified  favour  by  the  Press 
— though  I  had  no  cause  to  complain — and  the  business 
was  only  moderately  good.  An  amusing  little  incident 
occurred  on  the  first  night.  When  the  curtain  fell  on 
the  spirited  dancing  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  etc.,  it 
was  rung  up  on  the  full  company  assembled  on  the 
stage  again  and  again.  There  were  plenty  obvious 
calls  of  the  name  of  the  performer  of  John  Peerybingle, 
and  after  some  eight  or  nine  repetitions  of  this,  Mr. 
Bourchier  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  down  to 
the  footlights  and  presented  me  to  the  audience,  which 
was  very  considerate  of  him  ! 

March  31,  1904,  I  played  in  a  slight  comedy  by 
Frank  Stay  ton,  called  A  Maid  from  School,  at  Terry's.  It 
was  not  successful,  and  the  public  stayed  away  in  large 
numbers.  Miss  Kitty  Loftus  was  the  manageress,  and 
played  the  leading  part. 

April  25,  1904,  was  signalised  by  the  first  meeting 
at  His  Majesty's  (the  name  having  been  changed  to 
that)  in  connection  with  the  Academy  of  Dramatic 
Art  which  has  since  become  such  a  flourishing  and  potent 
institution.  I  was  engaged  as  one  of  the  instructors 
for  the  first  two  terms,  and  entered  very  heartily  into 
the  work,  which  I  enjoyed.  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
my  views  changed  very  materially  as  time  went  on.  I 
had  firmly  thought,  at  first,  that  it  was  a  good  thing 
that  the  aspirant  should  have  a  place  where  he  could 
get  good,  sound  instruction  in  the  first  steps  of  his  pro- 
fession, but  when  I  became  intimately  associated  with 
it  and  saw  its  other  bearing,  in  the  direction  I  have 


P/iotu] 


[•'  The  Play  Pictorial" 

J.    H.    BARNES    IN    "THE    FINISHINC    SCHOOL" 


[To  face  page  269 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     269 

recently  called  attention  to — i.  e.  of  flooding  the  stage 
with  amateurs,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  who  had  "  borne 
the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  " — I  was  honestly  glad 
when  rearrangements  at  the  Academy  itself  and  my 
own  professional  work  terminated  my  connection  with 
it.  I  should  like  to  emphasise  the  fact  that  this  was 
a  case  of  honest  change  of  opinion,  and  I  still  regard 
the  question  from  my  later  point  of  view.  Among  the 
pupils  who  received  their  first  lessons  in  my  class  during 
my  short  connection  with  the  school  were  ]VIi\  Reginald 
Owen  and  Miss  Maud  Cressall,  who  have  both  succeeded 
well  in  the  profession  in  England,  and  Miss  Maud  Leslie, 
firmly  established  in  America. 

June  16,  1904,  I  commenced  an  engagement  with 
Frank  Curzon  in  a  play  at  Wyndham's  by  that  charming 
writer.  Max  Pemberton,  called  The  Finishing  School. 
Lots  of  good  names  figured  in  the  cast  :  Ben  Webster, 
Frank  Cooper,  myself,  George  Bellamy,  Miss  Ethel 
Mathews,  Mrs.  E.  H.  Brooke,  and  Miss  Annie  Hughes 
(who  played  the  leading  or  star  part),  and  a  very  long  list 
in  minor  characters.  The  notices  were  fair,  some  very 
good,  but  the  weather  was  dreadfully  hot  at  the  time. 
Theatres  were  out  of  the  question,  and  the  run  ter- 
minated on  July  16.  Miss  Hughes  gave  a  delightful 
performance  as  Dorothy  Melville,  and  looked  perfectly 
bewitching  when  she  went  into  her  male  costume. 
During  the  intense  heat  of  that  time  the  annual  fete 
took  place  in  the  Botanical  Gardens,  Regent's  Park,  for 
the  Actors'  Orphanage  Fund,  when  all  who  could  find 
a  part,  joined  Cyril  Maude  in  a  blood-curdling  melo- 
drama by  poor  Captain  Robert  Marshall,  entitled  The 
Track  of  Blood.     I  shall  never  forget  the  heat.     I  think 


270    FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE 

we  played  the  drama  five  times  during  the  afternoon. 
To  enumerate  the  cast  is  unnecessary.  They  were  all 
the  prominent  names  of  London.  A  parboiled  com- 
pany !  and  a  melting  audience  !  I  think,  as  the  day 
progressed,  The  Track  of  Perspiration  would  have  been 
a  more  fitting  title,  but  no  one  grumbled.  All  was 
good  humour  and  heartiness.  The  gardens  were  thronged. 
Thousands  of  the  public  got  good  value  for  their  money. 
The  charity  benefited  to  a  large  amount,  and  all  ended 
happily  except  that  poor  Brandon  Thomas  lost  his 
voice  shouting  as  the  outside  showman.  Oh,  how  he 
shouted,  as  long  as  he  could  !  In  works  of  charity  we 
actors  do,  undoubtedly,  "  hold  our  own."  I  remember 
reading  years  ago  a  story  of  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi, 
who  was  one  day  visited  by  a  neighbour,  a  very  vain 
woman,  and  the  owner  of  very  beautiful  jewels,  of  which 
she  was  duly  proud.  In  the  course  of  conversation  she 
said  to  her  hostess,  "  But  where  are  your  jewels  ?  You 
are  wearing  none."  At  this  moment  three  splendid 
sons  of  the  noble  matron  entered  the  room,  and  point- 
ing to  them  with  a  mother's  pride,  she  said,  "  These 
are  my  jewels."  So  I  would  claim  for  my  calling  this 
one  sure  characteristic.  Whatever  else  we  are,  or  what- 
ever our  foibles  may  be,  once  sound  the  tocsin  "  charity," 
and  we  are  never  "  weary  in  well  doing,"  and,  I  am  bomid 
to  add,  for  many  years  the  public  have  recognised 
the  fact,  and  responded  most  nobly  to  any  appeal  we 
have  made  for  our  own  charitable  institutions. 

Late  in  the  year  1904  I  had  settled  to  play  in  a  re- 
vival of  Bernard  Shaw's  Candida,  at  the  Court,  besides 
which  I  had  some  weeks  to  run  of  my  second  term  as 
one  of  the  instructors  at  the  Academy  of  Dramatic  Art, 


FORTY   YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     271 

but  Mr.  Piiiero  (before  he  was  Sir  Arthur)  settled  with 
Mr.  Frohman's  manager  that  he  would  like  me  to  go 
out  to  New  York  to  produce,  and  play  in,  his  play,  A 
Wife  Without  a  Smile.  After  some  little  parleying, 
I  was  kindly  released  from  both  my  other  engagements, 
and  I  sailed  from  Liverpool  by  the  s.s.  Etruria  (Captain 
Warr),  November  26,  1904.  Arrived  in  New  York,  I 
found  a  perfect  storm  raging  in  the  Press  anent  the  play. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  there  was  one  effect  in  it 
to  which  some  people  took  exception ;  indeed,  there  was 
a  statement  going  round  that  a  certain  Royal  personage 
had  expressed  the  opinion  that  it  would  be  better  cut 
out.  It  is  not  my  province  to  discuss  it.  I  merely 
chronicle  the  fact.  The  New  York  Press  had  taken 
up  the  matter  so  warmly  that  Mr.  Frohman  thought 
it  advisable  to  remove  the  objectionable  feature,  and 
the  play  was  produced  without  it  at  the  Criterion  on 
December  19,  1904.  The  play  may  have  been  risky 
with  it.  It  was  meaningless  without  it,  and  failed 
completely,  despite  a  strong  cast  including  Ernest  Law- 
ford,  Frank  Worthing,  Frank  Atherley,  myself.  Misses 
Margaret  Illington,  Esther  Tittell,  Elsie  de  Wolf,  and 
others.  The  notices  were  not  bad;  some  good.  Mr. 
Dan  Frohman  told  me  in  conversation,  afterwards,  that 
they  were  bound  by  contract  to  do  the  play,  but  with 
the  storm  raised  against  it  in  the  Press,  there  was  nothing 
to  do  "  but  to  kill  it  and  get  it  off,"  which  seemed  hardly 
fair  to  Pinero,  and  not  very  satisfactory  to  me,  as  it 
only  ran  about  a  fortnight,  but,  fortunately,  I  had  a 
limited  guarantee.  When  the  play  failed  so  badly  I 
was  asked  by  the  management  to  play  a  part  in  a  new 
play  about  to  be  produced  by  my  old  friend  Augustus 


272    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Thomas,  one  of  America's  foremost  dramatists,  to  which 
I  cheerfully  consented.  It  was  called  Mrs.  Le'Qing- 
welVs  Boots,  and  first  saw  the  light  at  the  Savoy  on 
January  16,  1905.  It  was  an  unequivocal  success. 
Again  the  company  was  very  strong,  John  Saville,  E. 
Lawford,  William  Courtenay,  Louis  Payne,  Vincent 
Serrano,  myself,  Jay  Wilson,  Misses  Dorothy  Hammond, 
Jessie  Busley,  Margaret  Illington,  Fay  Davis,  and 
Mrs.  A.  A.  Adams  (mother  of  Miss  Maude  Adams). 
The  general  notices  were  excellent,  as  were  mine,  per- 
sonally, though  I  had  by  no  means  a  good  part.  The 
business  was  enormous,  I  confess  to  a  considerable 
disappointment  in  the  matter.  My  engagement  for 
Pinero's  play  had  been  for  the  run  of  the  play  with  a 
six  weeks'  minimum  guarantee,  and  naturally  I  con- 
cluded I  was  transferring  my  services  to  Mr.  Thomas's 
on  the  same  terms,  and  it  was  with  no  little  dismay  that 
I  received  the  information  from  one  of  Mr.  Frohman's 
henchmen,  after  the  great  hit  made  by  the  latter  play, 
that  I  was  only  filling  out  my  six  weeks'  minimum,  for 
the  reason  that  the  management  had  so  many  people 
on  their  hands  for  whom  they  were  bound  to  find  em- 
ployment first.  I  felt  annoyed  about  it,  but  I  had  no 
one  to  blame  but  myself,  and  there  was  no  remedy. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  believe  Mr.  Guy  Standing  took 
my  place,  and  the  play  ran  well  into  the  summer 
months.  Without  comment,  I  sailed  for  home  on  the 
s.s.  Minneapolis  with  my  friend  Captain  T.  F.  Gates, 
February  4,  and  arrived  February  14,  1905. 


XXIX 

Shortly  after  I  reached  home  a  young  lady  of  great 
amateur  experience,  well-connected,  and  with  a  host 
of  friends,  essayed  the  part  of  Portia  for  two  matinees 
at  Terry's,  March  9  and  11,  1905.  She  engaged  me  to 
play  Antonio,  and  asked  me  also  to  stage-manage  and 
produce  the  play.  It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  get 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  on  to  a  stage  of  the  size  of  Terry's 
at  all,  but  I  thought  it  out,  and  with  a  little  re-arrange- 
ment and  abridgment  prepared  a  version  which  solved 
the  difficulty.  Miss  Constance  Stuart,  the  lady  in 
question,  was  more  than  intelligent  as  Portia ;  Norman 
Forbes  quite  as  good  as  Shylock;  Henry  Ainley  an 
admirable  Bassanio ;  poor  Loring  Fernie  bright  and 
amusing  as  Gratiano,  and  Miss  Madge  Fabian  a  delightful 
Jessica.  Of  course  the  performances  were  of  little 
general  public  interest,  but  the  Press  were  quite  favour- 
able. Then  Miss  Tita  Brand  (daughter  of  the  brilliant 
singer  and  dramatic  actress.  Miss  Marie  Brema)  took 
the  Shaftesbury  and  produced  Othello,  April  8.  Mr. 
Herbert  Jarman  was  the  stage  manager,  and  did  his 
work  excellently.  The  notices  were  very  mixed,  though, 
personally,  I  had  no  cause  to  complain,  but  the  business 
was  poor.  And  yet  I  venture  to  say  that  many  worse 
performances  of  Othello  have  been  highly  praised  and 

successful.     Hubert    Carter    was    full    of    power    and 
T  273 


274  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

pathos  as  Othello ;  Henry  Ainley  about  the  best  Cassio 
I  have  ever  seen.  His  drunken  scene  was  fine,  without 
descending  to  the  inane  tricks  so  often  associated  with 
the  part.  Miss  Granville  excellent  as  Emilia ;  Miss 
Brand  quite  good  as  Desdemona.  I  played  lago ; 
E.  A.  Anson,  a  really  good  Brabantio.  On  May  24  it 
was  supplanted  by  Renaissance,  a  play  which  had  a 
tremendous  vogue  on  the  German  stage  at  the  time. 
Much  the  same  company  played  as  in  Othello,  with  the 
addition  of  Marie  Brema  herself,  who  gave  a  splendid 
performance.  I  played  a  monk  called  Father  Benta- 
voglio;  quite  a  good  part.  An  increased  orchestra 
played  some  most  beautiful  incidental  music.  Press 
indifferent.     Business  improving. 

On  June  4,  1905,  a  complimentary  dinner  was  given 
at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  by  the  theatrical  profession,  gener- 
ally, to  Mr.  Joseph  Knight,  the  doyen  of  the  dramatic 
critics  of  London,  with  Sir  Henry  Irving  presiding,  at 
which  both  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  present,  and  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  being  joined  by  Mrs.  Barnes,  who, 
not  being  a  member  of  our  calling,  enjoyed  the 
(to  her)  novel  experience  immensely.  Joseph  Knight 
had  been  a  true  friend  of  the  actors,  though  not 
a  fulsome  one.  A  fine  specimen  of  manhood,  a 
thorough  Bohemian,  but  a  brilliant  well-read  scholar 
with  a  kindly  nature,  he  had  been  the  critic  of 
the  Glohe  for  years ;  also  of  the  Sunday  Times  and 
the  Athenceum  on  occasion.  Erudite  and  thoughtful, 
he  had  held  the  balance  fairly  between  praise  and  blame, 
and  had  earned  and  greatly  enjoyed  the  love  of  all. 
That  was  the  note  struck  in  Irving's  admirable  speech 
in  proposing  his  health,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  it  was 


FORTY  YEARS   ON  THE   STAGE     275 

received  with  acclamation.  This  was  the  very  last  time 
I  met  Irving.  On  October  13,  1905,  after  dying  on 
the  stage  as  Becket,  he  passed  away,  finally,  in  the 
vestibule  of  his  hotel  at  Bradford,  dying,  as  I  believe 
he  would  have  wished  to,  literally  "  in  harness."  It 
was  a  tremendous  grief  to  me  when  I  learned  it.  Of 
course  it  was  only  a  sentiment,  but,  having  started  with 
him,  my  own  career  seemed  linked  with  his  in  some 
small  way.  His  body  was  brought  to  London,  and  lay 
in  the  Baroness  Burdett  Coutts's  house,  in  Piccadilly, 
for  one  or  two  days,  where  thousands  passed  it  in  solemn 
reverence,  testifying  their  affection  and  appreciation 
of  him  and  his  life's  work.  After  a  time  his  ashes  were 
laid  in  Westminster  Abbey  among  the  many  illustrious 
Englishmen  who  have  benefited  their  country.  A 
fitting  tribute  to  an  artist  of  lofty  ideals  and  a  truly 
gentle  man.  One  great  characteristic  of  his,  which 
cannot  be  too  much  insisted  upon  by  his  fellow  actors, 
was  this  :  Whatever  position  he  achieved,  whatever 
dignities  or  honours  came  to  him  (his  knighthood  in 
1895,  his  LL.D.,  Dublin,  1892,  and  Glasgow,  1898,  etc., 
etc.),  he  invariably  went  hand-in-hand  with  his  calling. 
Believing  in  its  possible  nobility,  if  regarded  from  a  high 
standpoint,  he  was  the  actor  first  in  all  things,  shedding 
an  endless  lustre  on  the  art  he  loved  better  than  anything 
else  in  life. 

I  want  to  "  hark  back  "  slightly  to  Joseph  Knight 
for  the  purpose  of  recalling  a  memory  which  should  be 
of  interest.  He  was  one  of  a  coterie  of  remarkable  men 
who  belonged  to  the  Arundel  Club  in  my  early  professional 
days.  This  club  occupied  the  last  house  in  Salisbury 
Street,  Strand,  overlooking  the  River  Thames.     Street 


276    FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

and  club  were  swept  away  in  the  building  of  the  Hotel 
Cecil,  of  which  they  would  represent  about  the  site 
of  its  western  wall.     Here  some  of  the  brightest  minds 
of  London  used  to  foregather  and  sit  until  broad  daylight 
very  often.     It  was  a  veritable  company  of  "  night- 
owls."     One    of    them    was    "Joe"    Knight    himself; 
another,  Richard  Lee,  dramatist,  critic,  and  poet,  who 
wrote  Ordeal  by  Touch  for  Mrs.  Scott  Siddons  (previously 
alluded  to) ;  and  a  really  wonderful  man  named  Horace 
Green,  a  great  journalist.     He  was  the  model  from  whom 
Tom  Robertson  drew  his  character  of  Tom  Styles  in 
Society.     His   tremendous   capacity  may   be   imagined 
when  I  say  that  I  have  seen  him  sit  at  the  general  table 
at  the  Arundel  Club  practically  chatting  with  and  listen- 
ing to  any  members  around  him,  and  at  the  same  time 
writing  a  leading  article  for  a  newspaper,  with  a  boy 
waiting  downstairs  to  take  it  to  the  printers  for  next 
morning's  issue.     I  believe  I  am  right  in  saying  that  the 
paper  was  the  Times.     It  is  so  long  ago  that  I  can't  be 
quite  sure,  but  I  vouch  for  the  main  fact.     One  other 
extraordinary   member   of   this    circle    was    the   actor 
William  Belford.     He  was  an   "old-timer,"  had  been 
a  light  comedian  with  Phelps  at  Sadler's  Wells,  and, 
in  his  later  life,  was  a  member  of  the  company  at  the 
old    Strand    Theatre    under    Mrs.    Swanborough.     A 
capital  actor  with  a  fund  of  humour.     His  habits  were 
out  of  the  ordinary  certainly.     He  would  get  up  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  day,  take  his  breakfast  at  three,  get  to 
the  theatre  in  time  for  performance,  have  his  principal 
meal  at  the  Arundel  after  his  work,  and  sit  up  until 
daylight,  when  he  would  go  home  to  his  bed.     And  when 
not  put  "  out  of  his  stride  "  by  work  he  followed  this 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     277 

routine  for  years.  Just  in  his  latest  days  he  announced 
with  great  ostentation  that  he  had  turned  over  a  new 
leaf,  and  that  he  would  not  sit  up  later  than  when  the 
time  came  to  walk  up  Gower  Street  and  catch  the  first 
workman's  train  to  Bays  water,  where  he  lived.  A  funny 
story  once  arose  out  of  his  habit.  He  had  a  rehearsal 
at  the  Strand  Theatre  on  a  certain  day,  and  before 
leaving  home,  the  day  before,  he  told  his  landlady  to 
call  him  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  following  morning.  He 
pursued  his  usual  course  that  evening,  and  the  next 
day  when  called  he  inquired  the  time.  His  landlady 
replied  "  it  was  two  o'clock."  Jumping  out  of  bed, 
"  Bill  "  said  :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  told  you  to  call 
me  at  ten  !  I  had  a  rehearsal  at  the  Strand  at  twelve." 
The  landlady  replied  meekly,  "  I  didn't  think  it  necessary 
to  call  you,  sir.  I  came  to  your  sitting-room  door  and 
saw  you  having  your  breakfast."  Perfectly  furious, 
though  amused,  "  Bill  "  thundered  out,  "  Breakfast 
be  hanged.     That  was  my  supper  !  " 

To  retrace  my  steps  a  little.  On  May  2,  1905,  I  made 
my  first  apjDearance  under  the  management  of  Messrs. 
Vedrenne  and  Barker  at  the  Court.  It  is  within  the 
recollection  of  nearly  every  one  that  these  gentlemen 
made  a  great  and  honourable  record  as  managers  and 
received  a  quite  unusual  amount  of  praise  from  the 
London  Press.  I  honestly  think  they  deserved  it, 
and  if  I  was  never  able  to  yield  to  the  hysteria  that  pos- 
sessed most  people  at  the  time  it  was  not  because  I  did 
not  appreciate  their  methods  and  their  ability,  but 
simply  because  I  had  met  a  good  many  clever  people 
in  my  life  previously,  and  I  was  not  quite  prepared  to 
blot  from  my  memory  all  that  had  gone  before.     I  am 


278    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

quite  prepared  to  admit  that  Mr.  Vedrenne  was  a  model 
business  manager,  punctual,  courteous,  and  considerate, 
and  Mr.  Granville  Barker  an  admirable  stage  manager 
within  certain  limits,  but  so  were  others  I  could  name. 
Indeed,  I  have  done  so  in  these  notes.     Judged  by  what 
is  going  on  around  us  nowadays,  I  frankly  admit  his 
great  excellence.     I  opened  with  them  as  Finch  McComas 
in  You  Never  Can  Tell,  by  Bernard  Shaw,  and  it  was 
my  first  part  in  one  of  this  amusing  and  clever  author's 
plays  ;  and  after  a  short  summer  holiday  I  rejoined  them 
in  the  autumn  and  played  with  them  up  to  July  7,  1906. 
Other  parts  which  fell  to  my  lot  were  Father  Dempsey 
{John  BulVs  Other  Island),  Roebuck  Ramsden  {Man  and 
Superman),  Sir  Howard  Hallam  {Captain  Brassbound's 
Conversion),  all  by  Shaw;    Samuel  Jackson  {The  Return 
of  the  Prodigal,  by  St.  John  Hankin),  an  old  man  {Electra, 
Professor   Gilbert   Murray's   translation   of   Euripides), 
Dr.  Delfinos  Tron  {The  Youngest  of  the  Angels,  by  Maurice 
Hewlett).     The  usual  system  adopted  at  the  theatre  in 
those  days  was  to  play  a  new  production  for  six  matinees 
first  and  put  it  into  the  evening  bill  later.     This  was 
successful  in  many  cases,  especially  with  Mr.  Shaw's 
plays,  but  some  of  the  others,  though  highly  praised 
and  successful  on  their  first  appearance  did  not  prove 
attractive  to  the  general  public  when  submitted  to  the 
stronger    test.     The    company    were    always    specially 
selected  for  the  parts  as  far  as  possible,  and  included 
many  of  the  best  artists  in  London,  and  it  was  altogether 
a  thoroughly  cheery,  artistic,  and  enjoyable  engagement. 
Business  was,  generally  speaking,  fine,  and  the  audiences 
were  of  the  most  refined  class  of  playgoer.     The  last 
of  the  productions  I  played  in  was  Captain  Brassbound's 


Photo] 


[Aljrnl  F.Uis  and  Walery 

.^.    H.    BARNES    AS    FATHER    DEMPSEY 

("John  Bull's  other  Island") 


ITo  face  page  278 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     279 

Conversion,  which  after  the  six  matinees  went  into  the 
evening  bill  and  ran  for  twelve  weeks  from  April  16 
to  July  7,  1906.  In  this  Miss  Ellen  Terry  played  the 
leading  female  part  (Lady  Cicely  Waynfiete).  I  am 
not  quite  certain  all  the  leading  parts  were  cast  with  the 
management's  customary  excellent  judgment.  The 
notices  were  fair,  and  I  had  no  cause  to  complain. 
Business  good  but  not  great.  During  the  run,  April 
28, 1906,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  occurred  of  Miss  Terry's 
first  appearance  on  the  stage  (as  a  child),  and  a  special 
souvenir  programme  was  given  away  containing  an 
autograph  letter  from  her,  and  the  autographs  of  all 
the  company  appended.  One  element  of  considerable 
anxiety  arose  from  Miss  Terry's  treacherous  memory. 
Never  very  good,  her  "  study  "  had  become  apparently 
most  indifferent  about  this  time,  and  was  often  a  source 
of  amusement  or  concern  to  the  audience  and  of  dismay 
to  her  fellow-players.  Those  having  scenes  with  her 
had  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert  to  reply  to  what  she 
might  say,  and  as  my  part  was  chiefly  with  her  I 
passed  twelve  weeks  with  a  modicum  of  what  actors 
know  as  "  first-night  nervousness."  At  one  rehearsal,  I 
remember,  Bernard  Shaw  demurred  to  her  version  of 
his  lines  by  quaintly  observing,  "  Well,  that's  not  what 
I  wrote,  but  I  dare  say  it's  a  great  deal  better."  But  the 
complete  explanation  came  later.  It  must  be  forty 
years  since  I  played  in  or  saw  Tom  Robertson's  comedy, 
Society,  but,  if  my  memory  serves  me  correctly,  a  speech 
therein  runs  something  like  this  : — Tom  Stylus  speaks 
to  Sidney  Daryl,  who  is  abstractedly  thinking  of  his 
sweetheart,  and  gets  no  reply,  and  says  (aside) :  "  Cupid's 
carriage  stops  the  way  again.     Confound  that  nasty, 


280    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

naughty,  naked  little  boy  !  I  wonder  if  he'd  do  less 
mischief  if  they  put  him  into  knickerbockers."  How 
could  we  possibly  tell  that  Cupid  was  playing  havoc 
with  Miss  Terry's  memory  and  causing  all  of  us  so  much 
distress  ?  Yet  so  it  was.  It  was  in  this  play  she  met 
Mr.  James  Carew,  who  became  her  leading  man  the  next 
season,  and  led  her  to  the  altar  a  short  time  after  that  ! 

On  June  12,  1906,  occurred  Miss  Terry's  benefit  at 
Drury  Lane,  which  was  one  of  the  monster  affairs  in  the 
records  of  the  British  stage.  Everybody  did  everything 
they  could.  We  all  joined  the  committee;  we  all  acted 
anything  (or  "  walked  on  "  in  anything)  we  were  asked 
to.  An  enormous  committee  was  formed  inside  and 
outside  the  profession,  a  splendid  list  of  subscriptions 
was  secured,  an  enormous  programme  lasting  five  hours 
arranged,  the  big  theatre  was  packed  to  the  doors. 
Caruso  sang,  Signora  Duse  (the  distinguished  Italian 
actress)  joined  Miss  Terry  on  the  stage  at  the  final 
reception,  and  altogether  it  was  a  veritable  gala  in  the 
fullest  sense.  The  full  receipts  aggregated  a  magnificent 
sum.  The  three  big  benefits  of  my  time  on  the  stage 
were  Mr.  Compton's,  Nellie  Farren's  and  Miss  Terry's. 
I  am  unable  to  remember  which  resulted  in  the  largest 
sum,  but  I  know  they  were  all  well  over  £5,000,  but  Mr. 
Compton's  was  supplemented  by  a  similar  compliment 
in  Manchester  following  his  London  testimonial.  Miss 
Terry  must  have  been  a  proud  and  happy  woman  on 
that  great  day  for  her  in  1906,  which  proved  the  enor- 
mous "  hold  "  she  had  on  the  public  as  well  as  her  own 
calling. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  that  in  February  1906,  being 
only  engaged  in  the  matinees  at  the  Court,  I  played  for 


Fhoto] 


[Alfred  Ellis  anil  Wolrrit 

,T.  H.  BARNES  AS  ROEBUCK  RAMSDEN 

("Man  and  Superman") 
(See  page  278) 


[To  face  page  280 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     281 

two  weeks  only  with  Nat  Goodwin  at  the  Shaftesbury, 
in  a  play  called  The  Gilded  Fool.  It  was  not  successful. 
The  notices  were  poor  all  round,  and  the  public  did  not 
come  in  any  number.  It  is  a  matter  of  regret  and  some 
surprise  to  me  that,  in  his  two  or  three  attempts  to  win 
the  favour  of  the  London  public,  this  fine  actor  has 
signally  failed.  I  have  seen  him  do  great  work  on  the 
American  stage  and  demonstrate  something  very  like 
genius  at  times,  but  possibly  the  parts  he  has  selected 
to  appear  in  in  England  have  not  provided  scope  for 
his  undeniably  great  ability. 

July  9,  1906,  You  Never  Can  Tell  was  very  success- 
fully revived  at  the  Court,  and  I  resumed  my  old  part  of 
McComas  for  a  few  nights  up  to  July  26,  when  I  termi- 
nated my  engagement  and  left  for  New  York  July  28,  by 
the  s.s.  Philadelphia  (Captain  Mills),  having  been  selected 
by  Mr.  Henry  Arthur  Jones,  and  engaged  by  Mr.  Charles 
Frohman  to  create  an  important  part  in  the  former's 
play  of  The  Hypocrites.  Of  course,  we  had  the  usual 
concert  on  board  for  the  different  seamen's  charities, 
and  arrived  August  4. 

The  Hypocrites  was  produced  at  the  Hudson,  New  York, 
August  30,  1906,  and  was  an  enormous  success  from  the 
first  line  to  the  last.  The  notices  were  really  magnificent 
generally  and  personally.  A  good  company  interpreted 
the  play,  including  Leslie  Faber,  Richard  Bennett,  John 
Glendinning,  myself,  Arthur  Lewis,  Misses  Jessie  Mil- 
ward,  Viva  Birkett,  Helen  Tracey,  Doris  Keane,  and 
others.  The  business  was  excellent,  and  we  ran  along 
merrily  till  February  23,  1907.  After  the  New  York 
run  we  had  a  week  of  "  one-night  stands  "  in  New 
England,  a  week  at  Baltimore,  two  weeks  at  Philadelphia, 


282    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

a  week  in  northern  New  York,  one  week  at  Washington, 
and  one  week's  return  to  New  York  (City)  at  the  Grand 
Opera  House.  Then  home  again  by  the  s.s.  Teutonic 
(Captain  Smith,  R.N.R.),  sailing  May  1,  arriving  May  9, 
1907.     Again  a  concert  on  board,  at  which  I  assisted. 

A  comphmentary  dinner  was  given  to  Messrs.  Vedrenne 
and  Barker  at  the  Criterion  Restaurant  on  July  7,  1907, 
the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Lytton  in  the  chair,  and  again 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Barnes. 
I  cannot  say  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  pro- 
ceedings, which  were,  however,  cut  short  through  some 
one's  oversight  in  not  arranging  for  an  extension  of  the 
licence   of  the   establishment.     As  far  as  we  got  the 
speeches  were  dull  to  boredom  and  quite  early  resolved 
themselves  into  the  category  known  as  "  mutual  admira- 
tion society."     Really  the  British  Stage,  according  to 
the  speakers,  had  no  past  history  at  all.     All  the  great 
authors,  all  the    great  actors  and  actresses  who     had 
adorned  it  through  the  ages  were  apparently  purely 
mythical,  and  the  British  Drama  had  begun  about  a.d. 
1900.     Lord  Lytton  succeeded  in  proving  how  little  he 
knew  about  the  subject.     Vedrenne  spoke  briefly  and 
modestly  and  to  the  point.     Granville  Barker  cut  loose 
and  fairly  let  himself    go.     Neither  Tree  nor   Bernard 
Shaw  was  at  anything  like  his  best,  and  when  the  arrange- 
ments   (before    mentioned)    brought    about    an    earlier 
departure  than  had  been  planned,  no  one  seemed  loath 
to  leave.     The  further  proceedings,  as  arranged,  were 
printed  and  supplied  in  the  form  of  a  pamphlet.     I 
remember  an  early  play  of  Sir  Arthur  Pinero's  in  which 
the  curtain  was  brought  down  very  effectively  on  one 
act  by  a  character  rushing  in  and    shouting  :    "  They 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     283 

have  cut  off  the  gas  !  "  I  was  reminded  of  it.  I  am 
doing  myself  a  great  injustice  if  my  remarks  on  this 
event  should  appear,  in  any  way,  inimical  to  Vedrenne 
and  Barker.  For  both  of  them  I  feel  a  personal  regard 
amounting  to  affection  and  for  their  work  profound 
respect  and  admiration,  but  with  my  reverence  for  many 
big  artists  and  plays  that  have  gone  before,  I  do  feel 
that  enthusiasm  for  what  is  becomes  of  even  greater 
worth  if  reasonably  tempered  with  honour  for  Avhat 
has  been. 

August  27,  1907,  The  Hypocrites  was  produced  in 
London  at  the  Hicks  (now  called  the  Globe)  with  several 
of  the  New  York  cast,  Leslie  Faber,  myself,  Arthur 
Lewis,  Miss  Doris  Keane  (who  has  since  become  a  very 
successful  American  star),  and  Miss  Viva  Birkett,  the 
new  names  embracing  those  of  Misses  Marion  Terry, 
Henrietta  Watson,  Mrs.  Leslie  Faber,  Vernon  Steel, 
Charles  V.  France,  Alfred  Bishop,  Fred  Grove,  and  others. 
The  play  did  not  go  as  well  in  England,  and  I  venture 
to  think  that  in  some  points  the  author's  ideas  were  not 
as  faithfully  reproduced,  which  caused  the  pathetic 
nature  of  the  story,  in  some  of  the  scenes,  to  appear 
too  grimly  painful.  It  only  ran  six  weeks,  till  October 
11.  At  the  time  I  received  a  beautifully-bound  copy 
of  the  play  from  Mr.  Jones  with  a  most  complimentary 
and  gratifying  appreciation  of  my  work  therein  over  his 
own  autograph. 

November  6,  1907,  by  a  letter  to  the  Daily  Telegraph 
on  the  subject  of  censorship  of  plays  I  joined  in  the 
lively  controversy  then  raging  in  the  London  Press 
on  the  subject.  In  the  late  part  of  1907  I  had  a  most 
pleasant  literary  success.     Current  events  on  the  stage 


284  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

had  inspired  me  with  the  notion  that  the  time  had  come 
for  some  one  who  had  expert  knowledge  to  endeavour 
to  counteract  some  of  the  errors  which  had  crept — 
and  were  creeping — into  the  actor's  calHng  in  many 
directions,  and  I  conceived  the  idea  of  three  articles  on 
Acting,  Play -writing,  and  the  Dramatic  Press  to  illustrate 
what  I  wanted  to  say,  and  what  I  honestly  believed  ought 
to  be  said.  I  wrote  the  first  of  these  articles,  and  sent 
it  to  an  important  daily  paper.  It  came  back,  set  up 
in  type,  as  slightly  proving  to  me  its  value,  but  with 
certain  suggestions  for  alterations  and  other  conditions 
which  I  could  not  accept,  and  I  asked  for  its  return.  I 
then  sent  it  (under  advice)  to  Sir  James  Knowles  (Editor 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  After),  whom  I  did  not 
know  and  never  met,  and,  to  my  great  delight,  I  got  a 
letter  in  a  few  days  accepting  the  contribution,  and  it 
appeared  in  that  magazine  within  two  months  (February 
1908).  In  due  course  I  received  a  most  useful  cheque 
in  payment,  accompanied  by  a  request  that  I  would 
submit  to  the  Editor  any  other  article  I  might  write 
on  similar  subjects.  The  article  appeared  under  the 
title  of  "  The  Drama  of  To-Day  and  the  Public's  Attitude 
Thereto,"  and  in  September  1908,  the  second  of  the 
series  came  out  in  the  same  magazine,  entitled  "  An 
Actor's  Views  on  Plays  and  Play-writing."  The  third 
and  last  of  the  articles,  called  "  The  Drama  and  Dramatic 
Press,"  was  duly  finished,  but,  alas  !  my  friend  Sir  James 
Knowles  had  died  (without  m}^  having  even  made  his 
acquaintance),  and  the  editorship  of  the  magazine  had 
fallen  into  other  hands.  Whether  my  third  effort  was 
inferior  to  the  other  two  (I  don't  think  it  proved  so) 
or  whether  the  question  of  the  Press  was  too  dangerous 


FORTY  YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     285 

a  ground  for  a  young  or  new  editor  to  venture  on  I  know 
not,  but  it  was  refused,  and  afterwards  published  in  a 
professional  weekly  paper,  October  10  and  30,  1909. 
These  articles  were  freely  quoted,  discussed,  and  com- 
mented on  in  London,  all  over  England,  and  even  in 
some  Continental  papers,  and  the  then  manager  of  the 
paper  in  question  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  for  the  profession  at  large  to  collect  the  three  and 
re-issue  them  as  a  pamphlet.  To  this  I  cheerfully 
assented,  and  having  obtained  the  consent  of  the  editor 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  After,  the  brochure  duly 
appeared.  I  cannot  say  its  reception  was  flattering. 
Its  sale  was  most  limited. 

February  27,  1908,  witnessed  the  first  production  at 
the  Comedy  of  a  play  called  Lady  Barbarity,  adapted 
from  J.  C.  Snaith's  novel  of  the  same  name  by  R.  C. 
Carton,  and  in  which  Miss  Marie  Tempest  played  the 
title-part  delightfully,  and  such  as  Allan  Aynesworth, 
Graham  Browne,  myself,  W.  H.  Day,  Misses  Lena 
Halliday,  and  Dora  Barton  supported  her.  Notices 
poor.  Business  indifferent.  Run  finished  April  11, 
1908. 

May  19  I  played  Dr.  Delaney  in  Sweet  Lavender  at  a 
matinee  at  the  Playhouse  for  the  Veterans'  Relief  Fund, 
and  received  through  Lieut. -Col.  Marshall-West  the 
thanks  of  that  distinguished  soldier.  Lord  Roberts. 

From  May  25  to  June  20,  1908,  I  was  on  a  "  flying 
matinie  "  tour  with  Mr.  Seymour  Hicks,  playing  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Floyd  {Sweet  and  Tiventy)  and  the  Ghost 
of  Jacob  Marley  {Scrooge).  We  went  all  over  the  country 
playing,  in  most  places,  to  very  fine  business  indeed. 

August  31,  1908,  I  made  my  first  appearance  at  the 


286    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

London  Hippodrome  in  The  Sands  of  Dee,  a  sketch,  by 
Alicia  Ramsay  and  Rudolph  de  Cordova,  with  a  tre- 
mendous water  effect  of  an  incoming  wave,  invented 
and  produced  by  Frank  Parker.  It  was  a  curious  experi- 
ence to  find  myself  playing  with  the  audience  practically 
all  round  me.  This  sketch  was  done  in  the  centre  arena 
before  the  alterations  in  the  building,  and  it  terminated 
by  the  sinking  of  the  floor  and  the  flooding  of  the  centre 
tank  to  a  depth  of  5  ft.  I  got  used  to  it  quickly  though, 
and  liked  the  work.  The  sketch  was  a  huge  success, 
and  ran  fifteen  weeks  in  London,  and  then  went  to  the 
Manchester  Hippodrome  for  five  weeks,  December  21, 
1908,  and  Liverpool  (Olympia)  for  five  weeks,  February 
1,  1909.  Mr.  Norman  Trevor,  Mr.  Lawson  Butt,  and 
Miss  Ruth  Maitland  were  my  comrades.  How  the  latter 
managed  to  endure  six  months  of  complete  immersions 
up  to  her  neck  in  water  practically  twice  a  day,  I  shall 
never  cease  to  wonder.  During  my  engagement  in 
Liverpool  I  witnessed  my  first  "  Waterloo  Cup."  Three 
splendid  days'  sport. 


XXX 

In  November,  1908,  very  many  in  the  dramatic 
profession  were  greatly  pleased  to  read  of  the  special 
honour  bestowed  upon  Sir  Anderson  Critchett  by  King 
Edward.  Known  to  the  general  public  as  the  King's 
oculist,  his  baronetcy  had  not  any  very  special  meaning, 
but  to  many  artists  in  our  calling  it  meant  a  great  deal, 
being  a  brother  of  one  of  the  most  popular  dramatic 
authors  (Mr.  R.  C.  Carton),  and  to  every  one  with  whom 
he  was  brought  in  contact,  the  kindest  and  most  consider- 
ate of  men.  For  myself,  I  had  known  his  good  father 
(from  whom  he  inherited  his  kindly  disposition),  his 
uncle  and  his  father-in-law  (Mr.  C.  Dunphie,  the  distin- 
guished dramatic  critic  of  the  Morning  Post),  whilst 
his  brother  and  I  have  been  firm  friends  for  many  years. 
I  could  not  let  the  event  pass  without  a  few  lines  of 
sincere  congratulation,  to  which  I  received  the  most 
charming  reply  November  18, 1908.  On  the  occasion  of  a 
memorial  matinee  to  Ristori  at  His  Majesty's  I  was  asked 
to  write  a  few  lines  of  tribute  to  her  for  a  daily  paper, 
which  I  did  November  28.  And  I  also  wrote  in  The  Stage, 
November  26,  1908,  a  reply  to  some  remarks  of  Miss 
Ellen  Terry's  about  myself,  in  the  book  of  her  life,  pub- 
lished about  that  time.  This  reply  was  largely  quoted 
and  commented  on.  After  my  engagement  with  The 
Sands  of  Dee  terminated  in  Liverpool  I  made  an  entirely 

287 


288    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

new  departure  by  accepting  an  offer  of  a  regular  music- 
hall  engagement  to  give  some  recitations  at  the  Palace, 
Manchester,  March  8,  1909,  and  the  Metropolitan, 
Edgware  Road,  April  12,  1909.  At  both  places  the 
audiences  were  demonstrative  in  my  favour,  and  I  was 
assured  by  both  managers  and  agents  that  I  was  dis- 
tinctly successful,  but  I  could  not  get  anything  like 
continuous  dates  as  bookings,  except  in  the  dim  dis- 
tance, so  I  gave  up  the  project  with  some  regret,  as  it 
was  work  I  was  always  fond  of. 

May  7,  1909,  I  appeared  for  the  Daily  Mail  Cab- 
men's Fund  in  a  benefit  promoted  by  Mr.  Seymour 
Hicks  under  the  patronage  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland, 
Lords  Rosebery,  Shrewsbury,  and  Cork,  and  Mr,  Alfred 
de  Rothschild,  at  the  Aldwych.  It  wa»  a  good  pro- 
gramme, and  a  very  full  house.  My  part  of  the  enter- 
tainment consisted  of  studying  and  reciting  some  five 
or  six  stanzas  of  verse,  entitled  "  To  a  London  Cabby," 
by  "  Touchstone,"  a  writer  on  the  staff  of  the  Daily 
Mail.  This  I  did,  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  London  cab- 
men, some  of  their  children,  and  an  amiable  bull-dog. 
I  enjoyed  doing  it  thoroughly,  and  have  often  been 
astonished  since,  when  walking  the  streets  of  London, 
to  receive  a  greeting  or  salute  from  one  or  other  of  the 
good,  cheery  fellows  who  were  in  that  group,  and  who 
never  seem  to  forget  the  little  service  I  rendered.  Poor 
chaps  !  I  am  afraid  their  case  has  gone  "  from  bad 
to  worse  "  since  then,  and  the  all-conquering  "  taxi  " 
has  very  nearly  rendered  their  calling  a  thing  of  the 
past. 

September  1,  1909,  saw  the  production  at  the  Globe 
of  the  adaptation  from  the  French  of  the  play  Madame 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     289 

X,  which  had  been  such  an  enormous  success  in  New 
York.  It  was  stage-managed  by  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault 
with  great  care,  and  a  fine  array  of  names  appeared  in 
the  cast :  Sydney  Valentine,  Arthur  Wontner,  G.  W. 
Anson,  O.  P.  Heggie,  C.  M.  Hallard,  Frank  Cooper, 
Herbert  Ross,  Edmund  Gwenn,  myself,  Alfred  Brydone, 
Cyril  Harcourt,  Lena  Ashwell,  Elsie  Chester,  and  others. 
The  Press  notices  were  fair,  as  was  the  business  for 
the  run,  which  was  nine  weeks  only.  Miss  Ashwell 
played  the  leading  part  finely.  Arthur  Wontner  en- 
hanced his  position  on  the  London  stage  very  much 
by  his  performance  as  the  son  delivering  the  great  speech 
in  the  trial  scene  with  admirable  effect.  I  played  the 
judge  (in  that  scene  only).  Frank  Cooper  (and,  after 
he  left,  C.  M.  Hallard  in  his  part),  Sydney  Valentine, 
Edmund  Gwenn,  Alfred  Brydone,  Miss  Elsie  Chester, 
all  scored  successes.  I  left  one  week  before  the  run 
terminated  to  go  to  the  Adelphi  to  play  in  Charles 
Rann  Kennedy's  powerful  play  entitled  The  Servant 
in  the  House,  which  had  also  been  a  huge  success  in 
America.  It  was  a  play  of  a  similar  nature  to  The 
Passing  of  the  Third  Floor  Back,  but  of  much  stronger 
and  coarser  fibre.  Its  first  night  was  October  25.  Some 
of  the  scenes  and  dialogue  were  even  slangy  in  their 
strength,  but  I  honestly  thought  (as  many  others  did) 
that  it  was  a  great  play  if  not  a  work  of  genius.  How- 
ever, it  did  not  prove  very  successful  and  only  ran  four 
weeks.  I  dare  say  its  socialistic  theories  were  against 
it,  and  indeed  they  did  not  appeal  to  me.  But  that 
was  a  point  which  I  did  not  consider  in  forming  my 
opinion  of  it  as  a  play.  It  was  a  small  but  specially 
selected  cast :  Guy  Standing,   Sydney  Valentine,  Ben 


290    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Field,  myself,  and  the  favourite  and  excellent  American 
actor,  Henry  Miller,  Miss  Edith  Wynne  Matthison,  and 
Miss  Gladys  Wynne.  The  general  notices  were  mixed 
for  the  play,  excellent  for  the  actors,  but  the  parts 
were  all  good  and  gave  the  company  fine  opportunities. 
I  think  the  author  made  a  considerable  mistake  in 
making  a  very  confident  and  self-assertive  speech  on 
the  first  night.  The  play  had  apparently  gone  so  well 
that  he  was  tempted  into  this  extravagance,  a  pro- 
ceeding which,  in  my  judgment,  is  much  to  be  depre- 
cated. It  may  savour  of  fogydom  if  I  state  that  in 
my  early  days  on  the  stage  a  very  absolute  rule  existed 
in  every  properly  conducted  theatre  forbidding  any  one 
to  address  the  audience  under  penalty  of  immediate 
dismissal.  Our  predecessors  had  found  out  the  error 
of  it  and  established  a  custom  which  nowadays  is  "  more 
honoured  in  the  breach  than  the  observance."  During 
the  run  we  were  visited  by  a  large  number  of  prominent 
socialists,  including  Lady  Warwick;  and  the  Labour 
members  of  Parliament  (to  whom  the  story  strongly 
appealed)  were  much  in  evidence.  Amongst  them  Mr, 
Keir  Hardie,  who  introduced  himself  to  me  one  night, 
in  talking  about  the  play,  and  was  quite  astonished  to 
learn  from  me  that  I  held  views  diametrically  opposed 
to  his. 

February  10,  1910,  I  played  Father  Joseph  (Richelieu) 
with  a  gentleman  named  Robert  Hilton  at  the  re-named 
Strand  Theatre,  and  had  one  of  the  most  unpleasant 
experiences  of  my  whole  career.  According  to  this 
person's  story,  he  had  been  promised  good  financial 
assistance,  but  promises  did  not  justify  him  in  taking 
a  theatre  and  engaging  a  large  company  without  the 


riioto 


[Alfred  Kills  and   Wulcry 
J.    H.    BARNES    AS    FATHER    JOSEPH 

("Riflielieii") 


[7'o  face  pane  290 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     291 

money  in  hand,  and,  after  playing  three  nights  and  a 
matinee,  it  transpired  there  were  no  funds  to  pay  the 
treasury  on  Saturday.  Scenes  of  great  distress  occurred 
and  even  violence  was  threatened.  I  was  able  to  help 
one  or  two  bad  cases  a  trifle,  but  I  could  not  make  myself 
responsible  for  much,  and  the  theatre  closed  summarily. 
I  certainly  got  my  salary  for  the  time  we  played,  after 
waiting  some  weeks,  but,  as  I  had  rehearsed  a  fortnight 
and  shown  the  person  in  question  nearly  all  he  knew 
about  Richelieu  and,  relying  on  his  promises  of  a  three 
months'  engagement,  I  had  given  up  negotiations  in 
another  direction,  which  would  have  given  me  ten 
weeks'  income,  payment  for  four  performances  was  not 
a  very  good  equivalent.  The  man  declared  himself 
a  bankrupt  shortly  afterwards,  and  most  of  the  company, 
including  its  most  needy  members,  did  not  get  a  penny. 
The  Press  were  not  kind  to  him  or  his  acting,  and  the 
public  were  not  enticed  to  witness  it  in  any  number. 

In  Sir  Herbert  Tree's  (he  had  received  his  knighthood 
by  now)  Shakespearean  Festival  at  His  Majesty's,  one 
performance  was  given  by  Lewis  Waller  and  his  company 
of  Henry  V.,  and  I  resumed  my  old  part  of  Williams, 
April  21,  1910. 

May  2,  1910,  at  the  Shakespeare,  Liverpool,  was  pro- 
duced an  American  play  called  The  Dawn  of  a  To- 
Morrow,  in  which  Miss  Gertrude  Elliott  played  the 
leading  part  surrounded  by  a  good  company.  I  had 
a  very  small  part.  The  notices  were  fine  all  round, 
and  the  business  excellent  up  to  the  Friday.  On 
Saturday  morning  all  England  was  mourning  the  death 
of  our  good  King  Edward  VII.  No  business  could  be 
thought  of.     The  theatre  was  closed — when  two  fine 


292    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

houses  were  assured — and  we  returned  to  London,  May 
7.  The  play  opened  at  the  Garrick,  London,  May  13, 
and  was  quite  fairly  noticed  by  the  Press,  and  the  busi- 
ness was  moderately  good.  Of  course,  the  theatre 
closed  May  20,  the  date  of  the  King's  funeral.  From 
the  Garrick  it  was  removed  to  the  Duke  of  York's,  and 
ran  on  for  some  weeks.  The  People,  May  15,  1910, 
contained  a  scrap  of  mine,  the  theme  of  which  was  "  The 
King  is  dead  !  !     God  save  the  King  !  !  !  " 

For  some  time  a  very  decided  movement  has  been 
in  the  air,  having  for  its  object  the  establishment  of 
a  Shakespeare  Memorial  National  Theatre.  My  scep- 
ticism as  to  its  fulfilment  has  led  to  considerable 
misapprehension  as  regards  my  views.  No  one  would 
rejoice  more  than  myself  to  see  such  a  scheme  brought 
to  a  successful  issue,  but  I  doubt,  firstly,  if  the 
money  required  can  be  raised;  and,  secondly,  the 
possible  character  of  its  directorate?  To  perpetuate 
some  of  the  crying  evils  at  present  extant  would  be 
a  very  positive  national  disgrace.  I  shall  explain  my 
meaning  a  little  later.  On  June  7,  1910,  I  attended 
a  special  meeting  of  the  Kensington  Committee  of  the 
movement  held  at  the  house  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Godfrey 
Baring,  195,  Queen's  Gate,  S.W.  Sir  John  Hare 
presided,  and  the  principal  speaker  in  favour  of  the 
scheme  was  Forbes-Robertson.  He  was  most  fervent 
and  eloquent,  and  I  stated  that  I  was  only  too  ready 
to  agree  with  him  if  his  views  could  be  carried  out. 
It  was  rather  a  coincidence  that  in  a  letter  I  had 
written  to  the  Press  some  days  prior  to  this  meeting 
I  had  suggested  that  the  one  name  to  place  at  the  head 
of  a  National  Theatre  to  commemorate  the  name  of 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     293 

Shakespeare  was  that  of  Johnston  Forbes-Robertson. 
With  his  announced  retirement  I  suppose  that  is  now 
impossible.  More's  the  pity  for  the  scheme,  if  it  ever 
goes  through. 

September  27,  1910,  I  commenced  an  engagement 
with  Mr.  George  Alexander  at  the  St.  James's  in  a  play 
called  D^Arcy  of  the  Guards,  a  very  pretty  story  of  the 
American  War  of  Independence,  with  scenes  laid  in 
and  around  Philadelphia.  It  had  been  a  great  success 
in  America  and  was  brought  to  London,  and  arrange- 
ments made  for  its  production  by  Mr.  Henry  Miller, 
the  previous  year.  In  it  Mr.  Alexander  played  (I 
think)  his  first  Irish  part,  an  officer  in  the  Foot  Guards. 
All  the  men  were  soldiers.  I  played  the  pleasant  part 
of  the  Regimental  Doctor.  Miss  Evelyn  D'Alroy  looked 
divine  in  her  powdered  wig,  which  became  her  to  ad- 
miration. She  played  charmingly,  as  did  Miss  Margery 
Maude  as  an  ingenue.  There  were  several  performances 
in  the  play  above  the  average.  The  notices  were  from 
fair  to  very  good,  but  there  was  a  weakness  somewhere, 
and  it  was  only  mildly  successful,  finishing  its  run 
November  12. 

It  was  followed,  November  19,  by  a  light  comedy 
called  Eccentric  Lord  Comberdene,  by  R.  C.  Carton. 
George  Alexander  played  the  title  part  in  his  best 
manner.  Miss  Compton  was,  as  she  always  is,  excellent 
in  one  of  those  parts  her  husband  (the  author)  so  cleverly 
fits  her  with,  and  a  lot  of  good  artists  lent  efficient 
help,  such  as  A.  Royston,  Athol  Stewart,  Fred  Lewis, 
Lyton  Lyle,  myself,  T.  Weguelin,  Vivian  Reynolds, 
Gerald  Ames,  Misses  Rita  Jolivet,  Ruth  Maitland,  and 
Margerie  Waterlow.     The  play  was  full  of  the  delicate 


294    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

humour  and  charm  for  which  the  author  is  famous,  but 
for  some  inscrutable  reason  it  just  missed  success,  and 
in  spite  of  praise  from  the  Press,  a  beautiful  production 
and  every  possible  chance,  it  fell  somewhat  flat,  and 
ended  its  run  January  21,  1911.  At  a  very  full  after- 
noon's entertainment  given  by  that  most  admirable 
charity,  the  Theatrical  Ladies'  Guild,  at  Kensington 
Town  Hall,  February  24,  1911,  I  recited  at  one  of  the 
concerts  and  acted  as  Bell-man  in  making  announce- 
ments in  the  Large  Hall. 

March  20,  appeared  at  the  London  Hippodrome  as 
President  of  the  Hampton  Club  in  Seymour  Hicks's 
adaptation  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  novel;  a 
terribly  weird  and  grim  story  of  a  coterie  of  men  who 
decide  by  cards  which  of  their  number  shall  commit 
suicide — a  play  of  the  nature  brought  into  prominence 
by  the  Grande  Guignol  in  Paris.  In  this  play  Seymour 
Hicks,  himself,  gave  a  most  vivid  and  (as  I  think)  a 
great  performance. 

April  20.  Went  to  Steinway  Hall  to  a  concert  given 
by  Hayden  Coffin  and  Maurice  Farkoa,  when  the  former 
sang  a  song  entitled  "  Kent."  Music  by  Colon  McAlpin  : 
Lyric  by  the  writer. 


XXXI 

On  April  20,  1911,  a  comedy  called  Better  Not  Enquire 
was  produced  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's  by  Charles  Haw- 
trey,  who  engaged  me  for  a  capital  part  of  a  gay  old 
Frenchman.  The  play  was  an  adaptation  from  the 
French  by  Gladys  Unger.  The  notices  were  not  good 
and  the  business  was  only  fair,  but  we  were  a  cheery 
company.  Good  nature  and  good  humour  radiated 
from  our  "  star,"  who  is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
men  to  work  with,  as  well  as  one  of  the  very  best  actors 
in  the  world,  when  he  has  a  part  worthy  of  his  powers. 
Our  run  was  about  thirteen  weeks,  to  July  20.  Besides 
Hawtrey  and  the  writer,  the  company  consisted  of 
Holman  Clark,  Gerald  Ames,  T.  Weguelin,  Hubert 
Druce,  C.  B.  Vaughan,  Misses  Marie  Lohr,  Vane  Feather- 
ston,  Hilda  Moore,  and  a  pretty  little  actress  named 
Enid  Leslie,  who  seems  to  have  dropped  out  of  sight,  I 
am  told,  through  ill -health. 

It  was  during  this  engagement  that  the  never-to- 
be-forgotten  Command  Performance  took  place  at 
Drur}'^  Lane  in  honour  of  the  German  Emperor  and 
Empress,  May  17.  Their  Imperial  Majesties  being  in 
London  for  the  occasion  of  the  unveiling  of  the  statue 
to  Queen  Victoria  in  front  of  Buckingham  Palace,  our 
King  arranged  for  this  entertainment  as  part  of  the 

festivities ;    and  the  Emperor  having  expressed  a  wish 

295 


296    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

to  see  one  of  the  standard  plays  of  the  language,  Lord 
Lytton's  Money  was  chosen  and  presented  with  a  cast 
embracing  all  the  very  best  names  of  the  London  Stage, 
and  those  for  whom  parts  could  not  be  found  walked 
on  as  supers  in  the  club  scene,  etc.  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  a  few  lines  as  one  of  the  tradesmen  in 
Evelyn's  house — one  Tabouret,  an  upholsterer.  It  was 
a  marvellous  night  and  a  sight  of  bewildering  magnifi- 
cence from  the  stage.  The  grand  old  theatre,  specially 
and  handsomely  decorated,  and  the  brilliant  uniforms 
of  the  foreign  and  British  officers  as  well  as  the  con- 
course of  society  men  and  women — the  latter  in  their 
handsomest  gowns  and  ablaze  with  jewels — made  up 
a  setting  for  the  Imperial  and  Royal  party  the  like  of 
which  I  had  never  seen  and  never  expected  to  again, 
and  yet  it  was  destined  that  within  a  few  weeks  I  was 
to  see  another  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  remarkable. 
The  event  described  above  reflected  the  highest  possible 
credit  on  Mr.  Arthur  Collins  and  all  those  who  worked 
with  him  to  bring  about  such  a  superb  consummation ; 
and  then  came  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree's  turn. 
Our  Gracious  King  George  V.  had  signified  his  intention 
to  do  honour  to  that  section  of  his  subjects,  the  ever 
loyal  actors,  by  a  command  performance  at  His  Majesty's 
and  Sir  Herbert  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the 
scheme.  The  theatre  was  splendidly  decorated  under 
the  artistic  direction  of  Mr.  Percy  Macquoid.  A  mon- 
ster programme  was  arranged  this  time  of  various  items, 
which  included  Act  II  of  Sheridan's  The  Critic,  in  which 
I  played  the  Beefeater.  Again  all  the  profession  found 
some  niche  for  their  services — great  or  small,  it  did  not 
matter.     A  special  poetic  masque  was  one  of  the  enter- 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     297 

tainments,  and  again  the  theatre  was  a  sight  of  the  utmost 
splendour  as  seen  from  the  stage.  There  were  not  so 
many  foreign  uniforms  visible,  though  a  good  number, 
worn  by  the  military  attaches  of  the  various  Embassies, 
but  our  British  Army  makes  a  gallant  showing  in  full 
dress,  and  the  English  public  can  hold  its  own  with  any 
in  the  world  when  it  turns  out  in  force  either  by  day 
or  evening.  On  both  the  occasions  mentioned  all  boxes 
and  seats  were  at  a  great  premium,  the  receipts  were 
enormous,  as,  of  course,  were  the  expenses,  but  a  large 
sum  remained  over,  in  each  case,  to  be  divided  among 
the  theatrical  charities.  By  the  second  performance  a 
new  Fund  was  started  which  is  known  as  the  "  King 
George's  Pension  Fund,"  and  one  of  the  first  to  benefit 
by  it  is  that  admirable  artist  and  thoroughly  worthy 
lovable  old  comrade,  Mr.  Harry  Paulton. 

When  the  season  closed  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's, 
July  20,  I  spent  a  delightful  holiday  with  my  people 
and  a  relative  at  Dieppe,  though  the  heat  of  that  summer 
was  so  abnormal  that  the  middle  part  of  most  days  was 
passed  lying  under  the  trees  in  as  little  clothing  as 
decency  permitted.  We  had  a  little  house  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  which  permitted  us  to  enjoy  as 
much  of  the  gaiety  of  this  piquant  resort  as  we  liked, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  we  saw  quite  a  little  of  the  more 
sedate  side  of  French  life.  Two  things  struck  me  very 
forcibly  :  First,  the  extraordinary  thrift  and  genial 
politeness  of  the  peasantry,  market -gardeners,  etc.,  and 
second,  the  remarkable  enthusiasm  and  esprit  of  the 
soldiery  (we  were  very  near  a  large  barracks).  From 
what  I  observed,  I  should  think  the  renaissance  of 
the  French  Army  is  a  very  solid  fact. 


298    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

After  this  pleasant  time  in  new  environment  I  returned 
to  London  to  rehearse  for  Sir  Herbert  Tree's  production 
of  Macbeth,  in  which  I  played  Banquo.  It  was  first 
played  on  September  5,  1911,  and  ran  till  December  13. 
The  notices  were  good,  generally  and  personally,  and 
the  business  was  enormous  for  a  long  time.  All  will 
remember  the  sumptuous  character  of  this  revival. 
In  my  wildest  dreams  of  Macbeth  I  had  imagined  nothing 
like  it.  J.  Comyns  Carr  acted  as  artistic  adviser  in 
the  matter  and  did  his  work  well.  If  I  said  that  the 
performance  wiped  out  my  former  impressions  of  the 
acting  play,  I  should  not  be  writing  the  truth,  and  those 
who  knew  me,  as  well  as  those  who  have  paid  me  the 
compliment  of  reading  these  reminiscences,  would 
know  I  was  a  humbug  :  which  I  am  not  !  For  Sir 
Herbert  Tree  I  have  nothing  but  sincere  regard.  A 
delightful  companion,  humorous  and  witty,  a  splendid 
host,  and  the  best  all-round  character  actor  I  have  seen 
in  my  time,  I  cannot,  however,  say  that  his  Shake- 
spearean performances  have  supplanted  in  my  mind 
some  of  those  I  have  seen  before.  Yet  he  is  always 
more  than  interesting,  and  there  were  moments  in 
his  Macbeth  so  fine  that  if  I  had  my  time  to  come  over 
again  and  were  again  called  on  to  play  the  part,  I  should 
certainly  copy  him.  I  recall  one  very  notable  scene, 
with  Lady  Macbeth  after  the  murder  of  Duncan,  in 
which  he  reached  real  greatness.  But  as  a  whole  it 
left  me  cold  and  inclined  to  retrospection.  IVIr.  Bour- 
chier's  Macduff,  too,  had  the  same  effect.  Here  is 
another  artist  who  has  done  some  very  fine  character 
work  in  play  after  play  at  the  Garrick  and  a  performance 
I  shall  refer  to  directly.     But  his  readings  at  times  are 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     299 

so  diametrically  opposed  to  all  I  have  ever  learned  and 
practised  that  the  only  honest  course  for  mc  to  take  is 
to  "  agree  to  differ."  And  this  brings  me  back  to 
the  suggestion  I  hinted  at  in  my  previous  remarks 
about  a  National  Theatre.  Without  the  slightest 
reference  to  any  one,  individually,  I  venture  to  assert 
that  many  grave  errors  have  crept  into  the  reading  of 
blank  verse.  Indeed,  they  abound  in  profusion.  Be- 
yond all  question  the  traditions  of  Shakespearean 
reading  were  conveyed  pretty  directly  from  the  author's 
time  down  to  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
through  a  sequence  of  great  actors ;  and  the  effect,  on 
an  attuned  ear,  of  rendering  his  glorious  verse  in  the 
spirit  of  modern  prose  can  only  be  to  lessen  its  effect 
and  make  it  commonplace.  Of  course,  on  the  French 
stage  the  traditions,  as  bearing  on  the  works  of  the  old 
dramatists,  are  carefully  preserved  and  insisted  on. 
Even  too  much  so  !  Heaven  forbid  that  Shakespeare's 
verse  should  ever  be  delivered  in  the  intoned  manner 
adopted  by  the  tragedians  of  France  (though  they, 
doubtless,  would  insist  on  its  correctness).  What  we 
want  in  England  (and  always  had  till  recently)  is  a 
happy  medium.  There  is  no  need  to  go  far  for  an 
example.  The  standard  for  delivering  blank  verse  is, 
in  my  judgment,  that  set  by  Sir  Johnston  Forbes -Robert- 
son ;  that  is  the  method  of  elocution  and  reading  which 
should  be  a  part  of  the  equipment  of  every  Shakespearean 
actor  of  every  rank,  and  that  is  the  standard  which 
should  be  the  absolute  objective  point  of  a  national 
Shakespeare  Memorial  Theatre  if  it  ever  arrives.  The 
question  is  who  is  to  teach  it  and  to  insist  on  it  as  far 
as   possible  ?     To   get   back  to   Macbeth.     Miss   Violet 


300  FORTY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Vanbrugh  did  extremely  well  as  Lady  Macbeth.  Her 
sleep-walking  scene — which  had  a  wonderfully  effective 
setting — was  much  above  the  average.  Basil  Gill  was 
a  good  Malcolm  and  A.  E.  George,  Miss  Frances  Dillon 
and  Ross  Shore  were  effective  witches.  The  Lady 
Macduff  scene,  from  the  text,  was  introduced  for  the 
first  time  in  many  years,  but  though  well  played  by 
Miss  Viva  Birkett,  did  not  prove  of  much  value  to  the 
play.  The  last  act  was  perhaps  the  weakest  point  in 
the  performance,  and  the  fight  was  really  poor.  Its 
arrangement  was  entrusted  to  a  young  gentleman  who 
knew  nothing  about  the  play  and  who  did  not  realise 
that  what  is  effective  in  a  school-of-arms  may  not  prove 
so  on  the  stage.  The  fight  in  Macbeth  has  points  of 
drama  in  it  which  are  of  far  greater  consequence  than 
the  mere  clash  of  swords,  and  there  is  a  world  of  dramatic 
effect  in  it  when  properly  carried  out. 

Mention  of  the  name  of  Miss  Vanbrugh  reminds  me 
that  possibly  we  came  of  the  same  stock  in  the  distant 
past.  Of  course,  it  is  known  her  name  is  the  same  as 
mine,  and  she  herself  has  told  me  that  her  family  came 
from  Oxfordshire,  my  native  county,  where  my  people 
could  be  traced  in  one  parish  for  more  than  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years.  Some  old  relatives  of  mine,  who  have 
little  else  to  do  but  find  out  such  things,  have  told  me 
that  beyond  all  question  our  ancestors  were  of  the  same 
family.  I  hope  it  is  true.  It  would  be  no  small  pleasure 
in  life  to  know  that  one  could  claim  ever  so  slight  a 
kinship  with  two  such  charming  and  talented  ladies 
as  herself  and  her  sister.  , 

During  the  run  of  Macbeth  we  rehearsed  and  pro- 
duced for  three  matinees  and  one  night  a  play  by  Mr. 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     301 

Israel  Zangwill,  entitled  The  War  God.  Like  all  the 
work  of  this  very  elevcr  man,  it  was  lull  of  good  things ; 
indeed  I  have  often  taken  the  book  he  gave  me  down 
from  its  shelf  at  home  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  some  of 
the  fine  writing  it  contains.  The  notices  were  not  good, 
and  it  did  not  prove  attractive.  I  fear  it  must  be  classed 
in  the  category  of  what  are  known  as  "  dreamer's  plays. '- 
Who  was  it  said  :  "  A  dreamer  is  one  who  can  only 
find  his  way  by  moonlight,  and  his  punishment  is  that 
he  sees  the  dawn  before  the  rest  of  the  world  "  ? 

Beyond  all  question,  Mr.  Zangwill's  imagination 
reached  a  very  high  altitude  in  The  War  God,  and  it 
was  a  pity  it  was  not  seen  by  a  greater  number  of  the 
public.  In  this  play  Mr.  Bourehier  gave  perhaps  the 
best  performance  of  his  life.  As  Count  Torgrim,  the 
Chancellor  of  a  supposititious  kingdom — a  character 
evidently  suggested  by  the  life  and  work  of  Bismarck — 
he  was  positively  great.  Proud,  austere,  masterful, 
scheming  by  turns  and  pathetic  on  occasion,  he  touched 
all  chords  in  the  gamut  of  emotion  with  a  master  hand, 
and  had  the  play  run  he  would  have  enhanced  his  repu- 
tation immensely  by  his  very  fine  delineation.  Tree 
plaj^ed  the  secondary  part  of  Count  Frithiof,  which 
was  certainly  fashioned  on  the  career  of  Count  Tolstoi, 
and  he,  too,  scored  a  success  in  a  lesser  degree.  A.  E. 
George  was  very  effective  as  one  Brog,  a  revolutionary ; 
Basil  Gill's  fine  voice  was  heard  to  advantage  as  Osric, 
the  hero;  Miss  Lillah  McCarthy  was  picturesque  and 
forceful  as  the  Lady  Noma,  and  the  rest  of  us,  including 
Charles  Maude,  myself.  Moss  Shore,  Gerald  Lawrence, 
Misses  Laura  Cowie  and  Clara  Greet,  lent  our  best  help 
in  more  or  less  visionary  characters. 


302    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

November  26,  1911,  a  complimentary  dinner  was 
given  to  Mr.  George  Edwardes  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  with 
Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree  in  the  chair,  to  celebrate 
the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his  career  as  a  London 
manager.  It  was  a  splendid  gathering,  and  there  I 
had  the  great  pleasure  of  meeting,  after  many  years, 
that  fine  artist  Charles  Santley,  one  of  the  greatest 
vocalists  the  world  ever  produced ;  perhaps  as  a  singer 
of  baritone  ballads  the  absolute  best.  I  had  known  him 
in  my  early  days  at  the  old  Gaiety,  when  he  sang  in 
Zampa,  etc.,  and  his  greeting  of  me  was  cordial  in  the 
extreme.  He  sang  two  ballads  in  honour  of  his  old 
friend  George  Edwardes,  and  showed  that  years  had 
only  impaired  his  voice  a  little  and  his  art  not  a  jot. 
More  than  one  popular  singer  present  rubbed  their  eyes 
in  astonishment  at  the  wonderful  and  "  grand  old 
man." 

January  7,  1912,  I  took  part  in  the  Dickens  Centenary 
Celebration  at  the  Coliseum,  promoted  and  arranged  by 
Seymour  Hicks  and  Mr.  Oswald  Stoll.  It  was  held  on 
a  Sunday  evening,  and  consisted  entirely  of  acts,  scenes, 
and  tableaux  from  the  works  of  that  popular  author. 
Nearly  all  the  profession  joined  in  some  part  of  the 
entertainment,  and  the  immense  auditorium  was  packed 
from  floor  to  ceiling.  The  proceeds  were  handed  to 
some  members  of  the  great  novelist's  family  who  were 
in  reduced  circumstances. 

January  20,   March   16,   April    13,    1912,   articles   of 

mine  appeared  in  the  London  Press  on  the  following 

subjects  :  "  A  Working  Actor  on  Macbeth,"  "  An  Actor 

on  '  The  Miracle,'  "  and  "  The  Reading  of  Shakepeare." 

An  ambitious  play  by  Mi*.  E.  G.  Hemmerde,  K.C., 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     303 

was  produced  at  the  Aldwych,  March  12,  1912.  It  was 
called  Proud  M aisle,  and  was  a  modern  blank- verse 
effort  dealing  with  incidents  in  Scotland  at  the  period 
of  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie.  It  is  a  curious  but  well- 
established  fact  that  plays  written  around  this  character 
have  never  succeeded.  It  is  difficult  to  understand 
why.  His  were  stirring  times,  full  of  incident,  chivalry 
and  loyalty,  but  apparently  not  lending  themselves 
to  dramatic  success,  and  Proud  Maisie  was  no  exception. 
The  theatre  was  nominally  under  the  management  of  a 
Mr.  Archdeacon,  but  in  reality  was  controlled  and 
financed  by  Sir  Joseph  Beecham;  therefore  everything 
was  done  on  the  most  liberal  scale.  Beautiful  scenery, 
exceptionally  gorgeous  old  Scottish  costumes,  and  a 
fine  cast ;  John  Bardsley,  the  operatic  tenor,  sang  a 
tuneful  ballad.  Real  Scotch  dances  were  executed,  a 
good  fencing  bout  arranged.  Miss  Alexandra  Carlisle 
played  the  title-part  to  admiration.  Henry  Ainley 
was  romantic  and  virile.  Ben  Webster,  myself,  Leon 
Quartermane,  Norman  Trevor,  poor  Blake  Adams,  and 
Miss  Madge  Fabian  all  succeeded  in  our  parts,  according 
to  the  newspapers.  But  the  business  was  very  dis- 
appointing. I  am  afraid  there  is  no  doubt  it  was  a 
poor  play. 

May  11,  1912,  I  started  on  a  five  weeks'  tour  with 
Robert  Loraine,  playing  my  old  part  of  Roebuck 
Ramsden  {Man  and  Superman).  We  visited  Manchester, 
Birmingham,  Newcastle,  Glasgow,  and  Liverpool,  giving 
one  matinee  at  Edinburgh.  The  Press  were  unanimous 
in  our  favour,  and  we  played  to  good  houses.  My  next 
engagement  was  a  return  to  the  St.  James's  for  that 
curious  play   Turandot,  January   18,   1913.     This  had 


304    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

been  a  wonderful  success  in  Germany,  and  was  as  pictur- 
esque and  unique  as  could  be  imagined,  dealing  as  it 
did  with  old  China.  The  scenery  was  lovely,  and  the 
dresses  marvels  of  richness,  but,  alas  !  the  play  was  hope- 
less. Wlien  the  MS.  reached  England  and  was  trans- 
lated it  appeared  to  contain  a  great  deal  of  matter  so 
coarse  as  to  be  quite  unplayable  in  London,  and  although 
we  were  given  nearly  carte  blanche  in  the  matter  of 
discreet  gags  it  was  absolutely  impossible  to  make 
it  go,  and  it  came  to  an  end  in  four  weeks.  The  Press 
cut  it  up  badly,  and  the  business  was  very  poor  indeed. 
Another  version  of  this  extraordinary  play,  called  A 
Thousand  Years  Ago,  has  been  tried  in  the  United  States, 
with  nearly  the  same  result.  In  the  London  cast  were 
Edward  Sass,  myself,  Vivian  Reynolds,  Fred  Lewis, 
Norman  Forbes,  Godfrey  Tearle,  James  Berry,  Misses 
Evelyn  d'Alroy,  Maire  O'Neill,  Margery  Tarde,  Margaret 
Chute.  Some  of  Edward  Sass's  interpolated  lines  were 
very  humorous. 

February  12,  1913,  Theatreland  reprinted  my  poem, 
entitled,  "  The  Broken  Melody,"  for  the  following  signifi- 
cant reason.  Nearly  twenty  years  before  I  had  written 
this  scrap  at  the  request  of  August  van  Biene  at  the 
time  he  acquired  and  made  a  great  success  with  a  play 
of  the  same  name.  He  suggested  that  if  I  could  supply 
the  lyric  for  a  song  he  would  set  it  to  music  and,  if 
successful,  it  might  have  a  sale  on  its  merits  as  well  as 
help  to  advertise  his  play.  I  did  so,  and  I  suppose  I 
over-wrote  it.  At  all  events,  he  was  good  enough  to 
say  it  was  too  much  of  a  poem  for  his  purpose.  It  was 
reprinted  more  than  once  in  the  interim,  but  it  was  rather 
an  extraordinary  coincidence  that  in  the  third  verse  I 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     305 

practically  described  the  absolute  manner  of  my  old 
friend's  death,  as  it  occurred  all  those  years  after.  Hence 
its  reproduction  at  the  time  stated. 

February  15,  1913,  the  weekly  Scotsman  printed  along 
article  on  myself  and  my  career,  with  a  portrait,  and 
pleasant  allusions  to  my  old  days  in  Edinburgh.  With 
Scotsmen  "  once  a  friend  always  a  friend."  Their  loyalty 
is  marvellous  :  they  never  forget. 

February  23,  1913,  I  was  a  guest  with  Henry  Ainley 
and  Miss  Haidee  Wright  at  the  Gallery  First  Nighters' 
Club,  at  which  I  spoke  in  response  to  the  toast  of  my 
health  and  finished  up  with  a  short  recitation. 


XXXII 

On  Saturday,  March  22,  1913,  Forbes -Robertson 
commenced  his  farewell  performances  at  Drury  Lane, 
in  Hamlet,  and  invited  me  to  resume  my  old  part  (Polo- 
nius)  with  him.  Wliilst  sharing  a  dressing-room  with 
his  brother,  Norman  Forbes,  at  the  St.  James's  in  Janu- 
ary, the  latter  had  made  the  casual  remark,  "  I  don't 
believe  they  want  my  brother,  or  his  plays,  in  London, 
but  he  only  intends  to  lose  just  so  much  money."  What 
happened  is  quite  modern  history  and  common  know- 
ledge. How  the  theatre  was  besieged  by  crowds  night 
after  night,  week  after  week,  to  witness,  not  only  Hamlet, 
but  nearly  all  the  plays  in  his  repertory.  How  the 
records  of  the  theatre,  as  regards  receipts,  were  equalled, 
and  (I  was  told)  exceeded,  and  the  nightly  demon- 
strations of  respect  and  affection  for  our  foremost  actor 
are  amongst  the  happiest  incidents  of  the  modern  stage. 
The  Press  on  Hamlet,  generally,  and  to  me  personally, 
were  as  favourable  as  ever.  The  business  continued 
enormous  for  nearly  the  whole  of  the  eleven  weeks,  and 
our  star's  banking  account  must  have  been  very  sub- 
stantially increased,  where  a  loss  was  considered  possible. 
I  was  only  engaged  for  Polonius,  but  through  a  dis- 
appointment in  the  case  of  a  gentleman  who  had  en- 
gaged to  play  lago,  I  undertook  that  part  at  a  short 

notice  (May  19,  and  twice  afterwards),  with  every  evi- 

306 


j'lioto]  ["  ^'/i'"  i>i'*l<j  Mirror  " 

SIR    JOHNSTON    FORBES-ROBERTSON    AS    HAMLET    AND    J.    H.    BARNES 
AS    POLONIUS 


\To  jace  page  306 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     307 

dence  of  satisfaction  to  the  public.  Almost  in  the  last 
days  of  the  engagement  the  announcement  was  made 
that  his  King  had  made  him  Sir  Johnston  Forbes- 
Robertson.  Never  was  a  theatrical  knighthood  more 
welcome  or  popular.  And  then  came  the  last  night 
and  final  farewell,  June  6,  1913,  when  the  prices  of 
seats  were  raised,  the  theatre  was  thronged  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  and  hundreds  were  unable  to  obtain  seats. 
In  a  speech  of  feeling,  dignity  and  charm,  but  free  from 
maudlin  sentiment,  he  alluded  to  his  new-found  honour 
and  his  old-time  respect  and  love  for  his  friends,  the 
public,  and  the  curtain  fell,  as  far  as  London  was  con- 
cerned, on  a  career  as  honest  and  earnest  as  can  be 
found  in  the  annals  of  the  British  stage.  A  number  of 
his  personal  friends  and  associates  met  him  by  invitation 
on  the  stage  for  a  last  handshake,  a  parting  glass,  and 
a  sincere  wish  for  his  welfare,  in  which  his  popular  and 
gentle  wife  was  heartily  included,  and  "  there  was  an 
end." 

After  this  I  joined  him  in  the  curious  experience  of 
being  filmed  for  moving  pictures  in  Hamlet,  when  we 
rather  opened  the  eyes  of  the  good  folks  of  Walton-on- 
Thames  by  literally  walking  across  and  about  the  streets 
in  our  costumes  and  grease  paint,  looking  like  Red 
Indians  or  worse.  And,  now,  before  taking  leave  of 
this  fine  artist  and  valued  friend,  I  am  going  to  cross 
swords  with  him  on  one  point.  A  short  time  ago  I 
read  a  most  optimistic  opinion  of  his  as  to  the  present 
condition  of  the  British  stage,  and  I  also  read  an  open 
letter  from  Mr.  Henry  Arthur  Jones  combating  his 
contention.  I  am  not  always  in  accord  with  the  views 
of  the  latter  gentleman,  but  in  this  case  I  range  myself 


308     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

unreservedly  on  his  side.  Sir  Johnston's  life  of  sincerity 
of  purpose  would  clearly  denote  that  he  thoroughly 
beUeves  what  he  says.  That  being  so,  may  it  be  sug- 
gested that  he  speaks  from  the  platform  of  success, 
which  has  come  to  him  in  recent  years,  and  in  which 
every  individual  who  knows  him  (or  of  him)  rejoices. 

I  am  never  afraid  to  face  facts,  and  have  no  desire 
"  to  sail  under  false  colours."     Any  one  reading  between 
the  lines  of  these,  my  recollections,  could  hardly  fail  to 
notice  that  the  last  decade  of  my  career  has  not  been 
as  successful  as  the  former  ones,  and  "  times  "  have  not 
been  as  good.     This  may  have  made  me  pessimistic, 
but  I  don't  think  so,  and  I  desire  to  place  on  record  my 
decidedly  opposite  opinion  to  his.     I  see  a  stage  where 
our  great  Shakespeare  is  over-embellished  and  under- 
acted, and  often  very  faultily  read — where  the  scene 
painter  and  upholsterer  triumph  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  poet's  fancy,  his  immortal  lines,  and  colossal  studies 
of  human  nature.     I  have  seen  Sir  Johnston  himself 
have  a  great  difficulty  in   getting  members  of   his  own 
company  to  give  adequate  emphasis  and  meaning  to  the 
author's  lines.     I  see  a  stage  from  which  romance  and 
charm  are  almost  entirely  banished,  where  filthy,  sordid, 
realistic,  ugly  so-called  problems,  neither  amusing,  en- 
nobling nor  interesting  (except  to  a  very  few  advanced 
thinkers),  are  (slightly  to  paraphrase  the  bard  himself), 

*'  Like  a  mildew'd  ear 
Blasting  a  wholesome  nation," 

perverting  the  young  and  disgusting  the  old,  and  so 
deadly  dull  as  to  kill  the  theatre  habit  among  the  public 
— -plays  to  which  no  decent  parents  would  take  their 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     309 

young  people ;  thereby  cxeluding  all  that  section  of 
playgoers. — Theatres  opening  one  week  to  shut  up 
next  !  Actors  rehearsing  four  and  five  weeks,  very 
often  to  get  one  or  two  weeks'  salary,  and  three-fifths 
of  the  English  actors  of  force  and  character  driven  abroad 
to  get  a  living.  I  could  furnish  a  list  of  these,  from  my 
own  knowledge,  which  could  hardly  fail  to  convince 
the  most  sceptical.  These  arc  facts  as  I  observe  them. 
Let  who  will  differ  from  me. 

And  now  I  enter  on  my  "  last  lap."  August  2,  1913, 
I  left  Southampton  on  the  s.s.  New  York  for  a  tour 
in  the  U.S.  of  the  Drury  Lane  drama  The  Whip.  We 
opened  in  Chicago  August  30,  and  played  there  eight 
weeks.  When  I  look  back  and  remember  Chicago  as 
I  first  knew  it  and  see  it  now  it  seems  unbelievable.  The 
public  spirit  of  the  place  which  has  brought  about  the 
transformation  must  have  been  gigantic.  Where  I 
can  recall  wooden  pavements  about  as  level  as  a  switch- 
back railway,  barren,  ugly  prairies  and  treeless  deserts, 
I  now  find  splendid  streets,  magnificent  public  (as  well 
as  business)  buildings,  perfect  pavements,  and  glorious 
parks  studded  with  lakes  and  wooded  islands,  public 
bathing-houses,  public  golf  links,  and  tennis  grounds, 
each  and  all  created  out  of  a  wilderness.  I  am  told  that 
the  very  latest  enterprise  of  this  truly  wonderful  city 
is  to  put  the  ugly  railway  on  the  lake  front  out  of  sight 
in  some  way,  carry  a  bridge  over  the  river,  and  finally 
have  a  majestic  boulevard  on  this  same  lake  front 
fifteen  miles  in  length,  extending  from  Evanston  at  the 
north  to  the  southern  extremity  of  Jackson  Park  at 
the  south. 

From  Chicago  to  Boston,  November  1,  1913,  where  we 


310    FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

played  thirteen  weeks.  Boston  (always  charming  to 
the  Englishman),  with  its  interesting  old  Colonial  land- 
marks, its  splendid  institutions,  its  public  library  with 
mural  decorations  by  Sargent,  Abbey,  and  others ;  its 
beautiful  Opera  House  and  Art  Museum,  its  Symphony 
Hall,  where  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  led  by 
Dr.  Karl  Muck  (of  the  Imperial  Opera,  Berlin)  would 
"  charm  the  birds  off  the  trees."  Everywhere  good 
taste  and  comfort,  especially  in  the  fine  hotels,  amongst 
which  may  be  mentioned  the  Bellevue,  owned  and 
managed  by  a  "  Man  of  Kent  "  (a  Mr,  Harvey,  son  of 
the  inventor  of  the  "  Harvey  "  torpedo),  with  many  of 
our  countrymen  among  the  staff,  including  one  or  two 
old  soldiers  of  the  British  Army. 

From  Boston  to  New  York  for  two  weeks,  February  16. 
New  York,  which  some  of  its  citizens  claim  "  is  the 
most  wonderful  city  in  the  world."  In  some  respects 
they  would  appear  to  be  right.  It  seems  to  have  ab- 
sorbed the  gaiety  and  advanced  ideas  of  every  other 
prominent  community  in  the  world.  Presumably,  there 
is  hidden  away  somewhere  in  New  York  a  domestic 
life,  but  one  is  never  cognizant  of  it.  Everywhere  is 
evidence  of  the  "  mighty  dollar  "  and  the  most  strenu- 
ous pursuit  of  pleasure.  The  money  spent  dailj'  on 
costly  and  luxurious  enjoyment  must  be  too  fabulous 
to  contemplate. 

On  to  Philadelphia  March  7.  "  Sleepy  old  Phila- 
delphia "  some  of  the  forward  Americans  call  it.  Maybe ; 
but  to  me  it  is  one  of  the  most  charming  cities  in  the 
Union,  and  I  have  always  thought  so.  I  love  its  magnifi- 
cent Fairmount  Park,  its  old-world  characteristics, 
and  even  its  narrow  streets  and  red-brick  pavements, 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     311 

carrying  the  mind  back  to  the  days  "  when  all  the  world 
was  young  "  to  us,  and  its  sense  of  calm,  comfortable, 
well-off  respectability.  Nor  is  this  feeling  of  secure 
wealthy  complaisance  without  good  basis.  I  wonder 
how  many  of  the  gigantic,  ostentatious  projects  of  the 
West  have  been  formulated  and  financed  and  owned 
in  the  sedate  but  handsomely  housed  trust  companies 
of  Philadelphia.  We  played  there  seven  weeks,  and 
I  experienced  any  amount  of  most  kindly  hospitality. 
It  is  a  city  of  delightful  clubs,  the  Union  League,  the 
Racquet,  the  new  Manufacturers'  (a  most  wonderful 
all-marble  structure),  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least, 
the  charming  Art  Club,  one  of  the  very  nicest,  cosiest, 
and  tasteful  semi -Bohemian  clubs  in  the  world.  Here 
good-fellowship  abounds,  radiating  from  its  President. 
John  Howard  McFadden.  Known  to  his  friends  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  as  the  Cotton  King,  he  is  a 
many-sided  man  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.  There 
are  many  fine  collections  of  pictures  and  objects  of  art 
owned  amongst  the  wealthy  men  of  Philadelphia.  This 
is  the  present  home  of  Rembrandt's  "  The  Mill  " ;  also 
the  celebrated  "  Madonna,"  by  Raphael,  known  in 
Europe  as  the  "  Cooper  "  Madonna,  recently  purchased 
from  the  famous  Lansdowne  collection  for  an  enormous 
sum.  Both  of  them  are  housed  with  other  great  works 
in  the  veritable  palace  of  Mr.  Widener,  which  is  a  posi- 
tive storehouse  of  treasures.  There  are  several  other 
valuable  collections  in  the  city,  but  I  have  never  derived 
greater  pleasure  from  the  contemplation  of  pictures 
than  from  those  owned  by  John  McFadden.  There  are 
not  a  great  number,  about  thirty  or  forty — ^all  gems  of 
the    great    English    School.      Two    Hogarths,    several. 


312     FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE 

Raeburns,  seven  Romneys,  a  glorious    Gainsborough, 
an  equally  splendid  Turner,  a  George  Morland,  an  Old 
Crome,   "  Blacksmith  Shop,"  the  best  Harlow  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  as  fine  an  example  of  Constable  as  (I 
believe)  there  is  in  the  world.     This  last  picture  has 
quite  a  history.     It  was  sent  to  Lisle  to  an  exhibition 
about  the  year  1824  or  1826,  and  on  its  return  to  England 
was    held    in    pawn    at    the  port    of    entry    through 
the  inability  of  the  painter  to  pay  the  accrued  costs  or 
expenses  of  £14.     It  was  eventually  taken  out  of  custody 
by  a  man  named  Silcock,  and  after  many  vicissitudes 
found    its    way   to    its    present    abiding-place.     Called 
"  Stour  Lock,"  it  is  a  magnificent  specimen  which  "  makes 
one's  mouth  water."      The  great  charm  of  McFadden's 
collection   to   me   is   that   they   are   not   exhibited    in 
a  gallery  with  a  lot  of  inferior  specimens,  but,  beau- 
tifully preserved,  they  are  tastefully  hung  and  splendidly 
lighted  in  the  living  rooms  of  his  fine  house  in  Ritten- 
house  Square,  so  that  he,  his  family,   and   his   friends 
move  always  in    this   gloriously  artistic    atmosphere. 
What  a  luxury  !     Nor  does  Mr.  McFadden  spend  all 
of  his  great   wealth  on  his  own  personal  pleasures  or 
fancies.     Descended  from  John  Howard,  a  man  famous 
in  the  annals  of  medical  research  in  the  last  century 
(which  he  conducted  at  his  own  expense),  he  has  in- 
herited the  same  desire  to  benefit  his  fellow-creatures. 
He  is  prime  mover  in,  and  sole  supporter  of,  "  The  John 
Howard  McFadden  Cancer  Research,"  which  is  carried 
on  by  his  assistants  the  Messrs.  Ross,  in  a  laboratory 
in  connection  with  the  Lister  Institute,  near  Chelsea 
Bridge,  in  London,  and  "  a  little  bird  has  whispered  me  " 
that  great  results  are  looming  in  the  near  future.     He 


FORTY   YEARS   ON   THE   STAGE     318 

has  written  an  article  on  this  topic,  which  was  printed 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  After.  Add  to  this  a 
genial  manner  and  presence  and  a  thoroughly  kindly 
and  friendly  nature,  and  it  may  be  gathered  that  he  is, 
distinctly,  a  man  to  know  ! 

And  here  ends  my  task.  With  my  face  turned  towards 
home,  the  dear  home  folk,  and  the  friends  I  love  in 
"Old  England,"  I  lay  down  my  pen.  To  those  of  my 
readers  who  are  my  contemporaries  in  our  calling  my 
affectionate  heartfelt  regard.  To  the  younger  members 
of  our  great  and  noble  profession  I  wish  all  good -luck, 
with  just  a  scrap  of  advice  by  slightly  altering  Addison's 
line  in  the  play  of  Cato — 

'Tis  not  in  actors  to  command  success  :  But  we'll 
do  more,  Sempronius — we'll  deserve  it. 

To  that  greater  public,  outside,  the  profound  respect 
of  an  ever-faithful  servant.  It  would  be  an  immense 
gratification  to  feel  that,  among  them  all,  even  a  very 
few  could  be  found  to  differ  from  me,  when  I  say, 
"  THANK  GOD  !     IT'S  FINISHED  I  " 


INDEX   OF   NAMES 


Abbey,  H.  E.,  144,  145,  178,  204 
Abingdon,  W.  L.,  167,  243 
Adams,  A.  A.,  272 
Adams,  Blake,  303 
Addison,  Carlotta,  208,  211,  241 
Ainley,  Henry,  273,  274,  303,  305 
Albery,  James,  81,  263 
Aldrich,  Louis,  173,  174 
Alexander,  George,  148,  293 
Allen,  Viola,  188,  191 
Alroy,  Evelyn  d',  293,  304 
Ames,  Gerald,  293-295 
Anderson,    Mary,    144-148,    171- 

178 
Anson,  G.  W.,  90,  241,  289 
Archer,  Fred,  152-155 
Arthur,  Julia,  194 
Ashwell,  Lena,  206,  227,  241,  266, 

289 
Atherley,  Frank,  271 
Aynesworth,  Allan,  285 

Baird,  Dorothea,  213 

Bancroft,  Squire,  95 

Bandmann,  66 

Bardsley,  John,  303 

Baring,  Godfrey,  292 

Barker,  Granville,  277,  278,  282, 

283 
Barnes,  Colonel,  126 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  148 
Barrett,  Wilson,  110,  231-235 
Barrie,  Sir  J.  M.,  206 
Barry,  Helen,  116 
Barrjanore,  Maurice,  16,  17,  161, 

201-204,  210 
Bateman,  H.    C,   9-12,   96,   111, 

112 
Bateman,  Jessie,  110,  267,  240 
Beatrice,  Mile.,  96 
Beatty,  Kingston,  10,  121 


Bedford,  Wilham,  276 

Beecham,  Sir  Joseph,  303 

Beere,    Mrs.    Bernard,    110,    135, 

155,  163 
Belasco,  David,  228 
Bellamy,  George,  269 
Bellew,  J.  C.  M.,  5,  6,  7 
Behnore,  George,  10,  111,  230 
Bennett,  Miss,  181 
Bennett,  Richard,  281 
Bernliardt,  Sarah,  83,  163 
Berry,  James,  304 
Beveridge,  J.  D.,  73,  74,  94 
Beverley,  William,  19 
Biene,  August  van,  304 
BiUington,  John,  93,  230,  266 
Bilhngton,   Mrs.,    146,    147,    172, 

230,  266 
Birkett,  Viva,  281,  283,  300 
Bishop,    Alfred,    207,    208,    211, 

283 
Bishop,  Kate,  23,  24 
Bixby,  Dan,  43,  45 
Blakeley,  William,  213,  214 
Blanchard,  E.  L.,  22 
Blanchard,  Kitty,  62 
BUnn,  Holbrook,  242,  256 
Blythe,  H.  G.,  16 
Booth,  Edwin,  174,  193 
Boucicault,  Aubrey,  211 
Boucicault,   Dion,   8,   29,   48,   55, 

73,  83,  112,  216 
Boucicault,  Nina,  259 
Bourchier,  Arthur,  267,  298,  301 
Bourchier,  jMi's.  Arthur,  267 
Bowling,  Captain,  152 
Boyne,  Leonard,  194,  243 
Bradfield,  Louis,  259 
Brand,  Tita,  273,  274 
Brema,  Marie,  273,  274 
Brookfield,  C,  155,  213,  241 


314 


INDEX   OF   NAMES 


315 


Brook,  Miss  E.  H.,  269 
Brooks,  Joseph,  125,  201 
Brooks,  Sarah,  244 
Brough,  Fanny,  243 
Brough,  Lionel,  90,  212,  202 
Brougham,  John,  43 
Browne,  Graham,  217,  285 
Browne,  Tom,  2GG 
Buchanan,  Robert,  143 
Buckstone,  150 
Burgess,  Mrs.  Fred,  266 
Burnham,  Lord,  86 
Busley,  Jessie,  272 
Butt,  Lawson,  286 
Byron,  H.  J.,   21-24,   38-40,   78, 
90,  152 

Calder,  W.,  167 
Calthrop,  J.  A.,  85 
Calvert,  Charles,  29,  42,  55 
Calvert,  Mrs.  Charles,  172 
Cameron,  Sir  Roderick,  42 
Campbell,  J.  A.,  161 
Campbell,  Miss,  181 
Campbell,  Mrs.  Patrick,  217.  220, 

225 
Canninge,  Mrs.,  207 
Cannon,  Arthur,  197 
Cannon,  Joseph,  197 
Cannon,  "  Momy,"  197 
Carew,  James,  280 
Carhsle,  Alexandra,  93,  94,  303 
Carlisle,  Sybil,  211 
Came,  Joseph,  181,  188 
Carr,   J.   Comyns,    78,    134,    228, 

298 
CarroU,  E.,  43 

Carson,  Murray,  207,  226,  227 
Carter,  Hubert,  273 
Carton,  R.  C,  81,  288,  287,  293 
Caruso,  280 

Cavendish,  Ada,  32,  89,  90 
Cavour,  Count,  138 
CeUier,  Alfred,  156 
Chamberlain,  Joseph,  11 
Chatterton,  F.  B.,  19,  73,  78 
Chaumont,  83 
Chester,  Elsie,  289 
Chevalier,  Albert,  115 
Chippendale,  157,  190 
Choate,  J.  H.,  228 
Christianson,  Christian,  143 
Christianson,  Kate,  143 
Chute,  Margaret,  304 
Clark,  Hohnan,  295 


Clarke,  John,  17,  39,  56,  78 
Claude,  Angelina,  133 
Clayton,  John,  74,  85,  113,  203 
Cliffe,  Cooper,  217 
Coffin,  Hayden,  294 
Coghlan,  Rose,  205 
Coleman,  John,  168,  170,  286 
Collier,  Jarnes,  149 
CoUins,  Arthur,  267,  296 
Compton,  E.,  150,  280 
Compton,  airs.,  293 
Connaught,  Duke  of,  246 
Conover,  Mrs.,  161 
Cooper,  CUfford,  100 
Cooper,  F.  R.,  100,  109 
Cooper,  Frank,  269,  289 
Cordova,  Rudolph  de,  177,  286 
Couldock,  C.  W.,  62,  201 
Cowell,  Arthur,  197 
Cowell,  Lydia,  118 
Cowell,  airs.  Florence,  181 
Cowie,  Laura,  301 
Craven,  Hawes,  217 
Craven,  W.  S.,  205,  213 
Cressall,  Maud,  269 
Critchett,  Sir  A.,  287 
Croizette,  83 
CVoker,  Richard,  197 
Crowe,  Mrs.,  10 
Crowe,  Sydney,  217 
Curzon,  Frank,  205-220,  269 

Dacre,  Arthur,  18.5-187 
Dalton,  Charles,  181,  194 
Daly,  Augustin,  202 
Dauvray,  Helen,  194 
Davenport,  E.  L.,  55 
Davenport,  Fanny,  162,  163,  165 
Davis,  F.,  272 
Day,  W.  H.,  256 
Dayle,  Gilbert,  259 
Deadlock,  Sir  Leicester,  76 
Dee,  Ellas,  241 
Deitz,  Linda,  157 
Delaunay,  83 
Dehnonico,  Charles,  47 
Denham,  George,  188 
Dennis,  Michael,  205 
Dennison,  A.  M.,  181,  183,  185 
Depew,  Chauncey,  228 
Devereux,  W.,  243,  244 
Dewey,  Eugene,  127 
Dewhurst,  J.,  19 

Dickens,  Charles,  0,  11,  25,  34,  81, 
85,  228,  302 


316 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Dillon,  Francis,  300 

Dodson,  J.  E.,  181 

Douglas,  Kenneth,  208,  211 

Draycott,  Wilfred,  243 

Drew,  George,  16 

Drew,  John,  191,  228 

Drew,  Mrs.  John,  188,  190,  191 

Druce,  Hubert,  295 

Dubourg,  A.  W.,  157 

Du  Maurier,  Gerald,  212 

Dunphie,  C,  287 

Duse,  Signora,  280 

Dyall,  FrankKn,  217,  241 

Eadie,  Dennis,  259 
Easton,  William,  152,  198 
Edwardes,  George,  302 
Edwardes,  Mrs.  George,  155 
Edward  VII,  King,  245 
Elliott,  Gertrude,  291 
Elliott,  Maxine,  194 
Elwood,  A.,  100 
Emery,  Sam,  262 
Emney,  Fred,  259 
Esmond,  H.  V.,  200,  226,  227 
Eustace,  Jennie,  201 
Everard,  Walter,  94 

Faber,  Leslie,  281,  283 

Fabian,  Madge,  273,  303 

Faircliild,  Roy,  201 

Falconer,  Edmund,  78 

Farkoa,  Maurice,  294 

Farqueil,  83 

Farren,  Nellie,  94,  280 

Farren,  W.,  44,  91,  92,  146 

Featherston,  Vane,  295 

Febvre,  83 

Fechter,  230 

Fernandez,    James,     19,    20,    93, 

121,  155 
Ferrar,  Beatrice,  259 
Field,  Ben,  290 
Field,  Kate,  200 
Fife,  Duke  of,  245 
Filippi,  Rosina,  213,  256 
Finlayson,  Mrs.,  37 
Fisher,  David,  39 
Fitch,  Clyde,  256 
Flanagan,  252 
Fletcher,  Charles,  6,  50,  255 
Florence,  "  Billy,"  43,  188,  190 
Forbes,  Norman,  273,  304,  306 
Forbes-Robertson,    Sir    J.,     172, 

205,    214,    216,    220,  221,  222, 


225,   226,    237,    270,    292,    293, 

299,  307,  308 
Forrest,  Edwin,  117 
Forrester,  Edwin,  100,  107 
Foster,  W.  D.,  197 
Frame,  Charles,  283 
French,  T.  H.,  194,  228 
Frohman,  Charles,  2771,  22,  281 
Fry,  R.  H.,  197 
Furtado,  Miss,  17 

Gammon,  Barclay,  89 
Ganthony,  Richard,  236,  240 
Garden,  E.  W.,  12 
Garriek,  David,  44,  67 
George,  A.  E.,  300,  301 
George  V,  King,  245,  295,  296 
Gibson,  J.  R.,  118 
Gilbert,  Sir  W.  S.,  39,  41,  90,  147, 

149,  157,  199 
Gilclxrist,  Connie,  94 
Gill,  Basil,  300,  301 
Glendinning,  John,  281 
Goodhart,  C,  244 
Goodwin,  Mat,  228,  281 
Gottschalk,  F.,  226 
Gould,  Bernard,  217 
Grain,  Corney,  89 
Granville,  Miss,  217,  241,  274 
Graves,  Clo,  241 
Green,  Clay,  126 
Green,  Richard,  249,  250 
Greet,  Clare,  301 
Grimston,  Dorothy,  267 
Grossmith,  George,  89,  266 
Grossmith,  Weedon,  265,  266 
Grove,  Fred,  283 
Gunn,  Michael,  145,  147 
Gurney,  Edward,  241 
Gwenn,  Edward,  289 
Gwynne,  Julia,  155 

Hading,  Jane,  83 

Hallard,  C.  M.,  290 

Halliday,  Andrew,  18,  78 

HalHday,  Lena,  285 

Halstan,  Margaret,  265 

Hammond,  Dorothy,  272 

Hanbury,  Lily,  243 

Harcourt,  Cyril,  289 

Hardie,  Keir,  290 

Hardy,  Thomas,  34 

Hare,  Sir  Jolm,  113,  114,  156,  157- 

160,  161,  203,  292 
Harris,  Lindsay,  123 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


317 


Harris,  Sir  Augustus,  12,  118,  197 

Harris,  Maria,  12 

Harris,  Nellie,  12 

Harrison,  Maude,  151 

Harrison,  President,  176 

Harte,  Bret,  47 

Harvey,  Frank,  96 

Harvey,  Martin,  217 

Hawley,  Stanley,  249 

Hawthorne,  Grace,  167 

Hawtrey,  Charles,  235-240,  295 

Head,  Charles,  197 

Hearn,  James,  21 7,  251 

Heath,  Miss,  110,  232 

Heggie,  O.  P.,  289 

Heinmerde,  E.  G.,  802 

Henderson,  Alexander,  219,  229 

Heslewood,  Tom,  244 

Hicks,    Seymour,    181,    187,    243, 

283,  285,  288,  294,  302 
Hilton,  Robert,  290 
Hobson,  Maud,  126,  226 
Hodson,  Henrietta,  84,  262 
Hole,  W.  B.,  36 
Holland,  E.  M.,  201 
Holland,  Fanny,  41 
Holland,  Ned,  123 
HoUingshead,  J.,  83,  86,  93,  137, 

138,  231 
Holmes-Gore,  226 
Homfray,  Gladys,  256 
Hopper,  De  Wolf,  228 
Horniraan,  Miss,  65 
Houghton,  Dr.,  14,  15 
Howard,  Bronson,  43,  44 
Howard,  C.  E.,  197 
Howard,  Sidney,  194 
Hughes,    Annie,     206,    207,    208, 

211,  226,  269 
Hume,  Fergus,  168 

lUington,  Margaret,, 271,  272 

Illington,  Marie,  259 

Ingersoll,  Robert,  228 

Irving,  Sir  Henry,  9-11,  28,  63, 
91,  96-113,  144,  145,  251,  253- 
255,  262,  263,  266,  274,  275 

Irving,  Laurence,  251 

James,  David,  21,  63,  80,  121 

Jarman,  Herbert,  273 

Jefferson,   Joseph,    14,    165,    166, 

174,  188-194,  230 
Jefferson,  Tom,  191 
Jerome,  Jerome  K.,  206 


Jerrold,  Douglas,  113,  114 

Jewett,  Sara,  151 

Jocelyn,  Harry,  126 

Jogram,  Professor,  209 

Johnson,  Orris,  201 

Johnson,  Sam,  100 

JoUvet,  Rita,  293 

Jones,  H.  A.,  207,  281,  283,  307 

Jones,  Maria,  13,  19 

Kean,  Charles,  68,  74,  232 

Kean,  Edmund,  64,  67,  106 

Keane,  Doris,  281,  283 

Keene,  F.,  197 

Keene,  J.  R.,  197 

Kelly,  Charles,  135 

Kelly,  W.  W.,  167,  168,  180 

Kemble,  67,  147,  148 

Kendal,   W.   H.,   66,   87,   88,   90, 

94,  113,  134,  156,  157,  159,  160, 

181    182 
Kendal,  Mrs.  W.  H.,  28,  66,  87, 

94,  114,  123,  134,  156,  157,  160, 

181,  182 
Kennedy,  C.  R.,  289 
Kerr,  Fred,  205 
Kingston,  Gertrude,  206 
Kitchener,  Lord,  246 
Klein,  Charles,  228 
Knight,  Joseph,  274,  275,  276 
Knight,  Julius,  194 
Knowles,  Sir  James,  287 
Knowles,  John,  65 

Lablache,  Luigi,  246 
Labouchere,  Henry,  83 
Labouchere,  Mrs.  Henry,  28,  83 
Lackaye,  W.,  201 
Langford,  C,  94 
Latham,  F.  G.,  243 
Lawford,  Ernest,  271,  272 
Lawley,  Hon.  Francis,  194,  196 
Lawrence,  Gerald,  244,  301 
Lawrence,  Lilian,  201 
Lawson,  Lionel,  86 
Leclerq,  Carlotta,  230 
Ledger,  George,  63,  64 
Lee,  Jennie,  126 
Lee,  Phil,  52 
Lee,  Richard,  31 
Leo,  Robert,  276 
Leigh,  Henry,  S.,  81 
Leighton,  Margaret,  119 
Leonard,  Agnes,  93 
Leslie,  Enid,  295 


318 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Leslie,  Maud,  269 

Lewis,  Arthur,  172,  244,  281,  283 

Lewis,  Fred,  293,  304 

Lewis,  Leopold,  10 

Lingham,  Nat,  54,  123 

Little,  C.  P.,  231 

Litton,  Marie,  91 

Lloyd,  N.  G.,  166 

Loates,  S.,  197 

Loftus,  Kitty,  268 

Lohr,  Marie,  295 

Lonsdale,  Lord,  197 

Loraine,  Robert,  303 

Lyle,  Lyton,  293 

Lytton,  Lord,  282,  296 

McAlpin,  Colonel,  294 
McCarthy,  Lillah,  301 
McCarthy,  Justin,  193 
McCullough,  John,    116-119,  172, 

173' 
McFadden,  J.  H.,  311,  312 
Macfarlane,  W.  W.,  225 
Machell,  Captain,  197 
Mcintosh,  B.,  228 
MacKay,  F.  F.,  62 
MacKay,  Wallace,  76 
McKennel,  Norman,  244,  265 
Macklin,  Frank,  147 
McLaughlin,  James,  198 
MacLean,  John,  93  172, 
McManus,  Captain,  211 
Macquoid,  Percy,  296 
Macready,  W.  C,  50 
Maitland,  Kenmuro,  36 
Maitland,  Ruth,  286,  293 
Marston,  W.  H.,  47 
Mason,  Jack,  151 
Massey,  Rose,  73,  74 
Mathews,  Charles,  32-36,  86,  90, 

159 
Mathews,  Ethel,  209 
Matthison,  Mrs.  E.  W.,  290 
Maude,  Charles,  301 
Maude,  Cyril,  266 
Mayer,  Marcus,  202 
Mead,  Tom,  96,  109 
Mellon,  Mrs.  Alfred,  230 
Melton,  Henry,  9 
Merivale,   Hermann,    85,    97,    98, 

216 
Merriott,  Paul,  267 
Meyrick,  Ellen,  93,  2G6 
Miller,  Henry,  290,  293 
Miller,  Joaquin,  124 


Mills,  Frank,  256,  267 

Milhvard,  Jessie,  281 

Milton,  Maud,  251 

Minster,  R.,  265 

Modjeska,  Madame.  232 

Mollison,  William,  243 

Monckton,  Lady,  161 

Montague,  H.  J.,  12-15,  21-47,  60 

Montgomery,  Walter,  142 

Moodie,  Louise,  141 

Moore,  Mary,  208,  263,  266 

Morant,  Fanny,  62 

Morton,  Charles,  229 

Mowbray,  T.,  78,  79 

Muck,  Dr.  Karl,  310 

Murdoch,  Bella,  94 

Murray,  Mrs.  Gaston,  39 

Nash,  George,  201 

Neilson,  Adelaide,  41,  42,  50-60, 

98,  119 
Nerney,  Thomas,  73 
Nethersole,  Olga,  202,  226,  256 
Neville,  Albert,  248 
Neville,  Henry,  89,  121,  230,  248, 

279 
Newry,  Lord,  98 
Nicholls,  Harry,  167,  244 
Nott,  Cicely,  93 

O'Beirne,  Marie,  25 
Odell,  E.  J.,  78 
O'Grady,  Hubert,  73 
O'Neil,  James,  54 
O'Neill,  Anne,  201 
O'Neill,  Mary,  304 
Owen,  R.,  269 
Owen,  W.  E.,  188,  191 

Paget,  F.,  201 

Pallant,  William,  238 

Palmer,  A.  M.,  149 

Parker,  Frank,  286 

Parker,    Louis  N.,  207,  226,  227, 

231 
Parkinson,  Joe,  253 
Parry,  John,  89 
Parry,  Judge,  93 
Parry,  Serjeant,  93 
Parselle,  John,  151 
Pateman,  Bella,  210,  240 
Pateman,  Mrs.,  181 
Pateman,  Robert,  180,  181,  241 
Paulton,  Harry,  93,  181,  297 
Payne,  Louis,  272 


INDEX   OF   NAMES 


319 


Peck,  Robert,  197 

Pemberton,  Max,  269 

Penley,  W.  S.,  205 

Pettitt,  Henry,  62,  139,  180,  194 

Phelps,  Samuel,  56,  67,  68,  70,  71, 

81,  86,  87,  90,  91,  137,  193,  215 
PhiUps,  F.  C,  19 
Phillips,  Kate,  115,  244 
Pinero,  Sir  Arthur,  28,  100,  134, 

181,  192,  271,  282 
Poulton,  A.  G.,  241 
Pounds,  Courtice,  242 
Price,  E.  H.,  162,  164 

Quartennane,  Leon,  303 

Ramsay,  Alicia,  286 
Rankin,  McKee,  62,  123,  125,  228 
Raymond,  J.  T.,  43,  45 
Raymond,  Lucy,  23,  24 
Rayne,  Eveleen,  73 
Reade,  Charles,  145 
Reed,  Charles,  198 
Renaud,  Chateau,  112,  113 
Reynolds,  Vivian,  293,  304 
Richards,  Cicely,  167 
Rignold,  George,  28,  55,  138 
Rignold,  Jane.  39 
Rignold,  William,  28,  135,  148 
Ristori,  Madame,  135,  135,  137 
Roberts,  Lord,  285 
Robertshaw,  Jerrold,  267 
Robertson,  Ian,  217 
Robertson,  Madge,  28,  157 
Robertson,  Tom,  13,  276,  279 
Robson,  E.  M.,  244 
Robson,  Stuart,  62,  188 
Rock,  Charles,  244 
Roe,  B.,  243 
Romaine,  Claire,  265 
Rousby,  Mrs.,  61,  93 
Rooke,  Irene,  243 
Rooke,  Mary,  167 
Rosebery,  Lord,  288 
Roselle,  Amy,  143,  147,  185 
Ross,  Herbert,  289 
Rossi,  Signor,  138 
Rothschild,  Alfred  de,  288 
Rouse,  Mrs.  188 
Rome,  James,  198 
Royce,  E.,  97 
Royston,  A.,  293 
Rutland,  Duke  of,  288 
Ryder,  John,  28,  41,  51,  93,  118- 
120,  140,  141 


Saker,  Edward,  24,  25 

Salvini,  11,  12,  137 

Sanford,  Wright,  47 

Santley,  Charles,  302 

Sass,  Edward,  241,  304 

Saville,  John,  272 

Saville,  T.  F.,  201 

Schaus,  William,  42 

Scott,  Captain,  246 

Scott,  Clement,  66,  114,  121,  140 

Serrano,  Vincent,  272 

Shaw,    Bernard,    270,    278,    279, 

282 
Sheridan,  W.  E.,  54,  56,  123,  125 
Shine,  J.  L.,  161,  167 
Shook,  Sheridan,  149 
Shore,  Moss,  300,  301 
Shrewsbury,  Lord,  288 
Siddons,  Mrs.   Scott,   28,   31,   32, 

276 
Silke,  George,  197 
Simpson,  Palgrave,  33 
Sims,  G.  R.,  180 
Sinclair,  Henry,  19 
Sketchley,  Arthur,  88 
Smith,  Joseph,  129 
Smith,  Mark,  43,  44 
Soldene,  Miss,  230 
Somerset,  C.   W.,    142,    143,   206, 

265 
Sothern,  E.  A.,  43-47,  157 
Spencer-Brunton,  Enid,  259 
Standing,  Guy,  272,  289 
Steel,  Vernon,  283 
Stephens,  W.  H.,  89 
Sterling,  Edward,  20 
SterUng,  Mrs.  Arthur,  146 
Stetson,  J.  B.,  199,  200 
Stewart,  A.  T.,  49 
StirHng,  Mrs.,  91,  190 
Stoddart,  James,  62,  151 
Stoll,  Oswald,  302 
Stuart,  Constance,  273 
Swanborough,  Edward,  247 
Swanborough,   Mrs.,    20,    21,    23, 

276 
Swinbourne,    Thomas,    139,    140, 

162 

Tabor,  Robert,  241,  242 
Tarde,  Margery,  304 
Taylor,  J.  G.,  172 
Tearle,  Godfrey,  304 
Teazle,  Lady,  91,  163 
Tempest,  Marie,  285 


820 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Terriss,  EUaline,  231,  247 
Terries,  William,  19,  73,  113,  217- 

219,  226 
Terry,  Charles,  155 
Terry,  Edward,  23,  90,  93 
Terry,   Ellen,   28,    100,    103,    104, 

109,    110,    144,    155,    251-263, 

279-281,  287 
Terry,  Florence,  100 
Terry,  Marion,  90,  206 
Thame,  7 

Thimm,  Daisy,  265 
Thomas,  Augustus,  201,  272 
Thomas,  Brandon,  115,  179,  270 
Thomasini,  Signor,  29 
Thompson,  Lydia,  229 
Thome,  Charles,  62 
Thome,  Thomas,  21,  63,  80,  121 
Tilbury,  Zeffie,  172,  229,  244 
Titheradge,  G.  S.,  227,  240 
Titheradge,  Madge,  267 
Tittell,  Charlotte,  194 
Tittell,  Esther,  271 
Toole,  J.  L.,   28,  32,   61,  62,  90, 

262,  266 
Tracey,  Helen,  281 
Travers,  W.,  48,  49 
Tree,  Mrs.  H.  B.,  265 
Tree,  Sir  H.  B.,  171,  212,  256,  282, 

291,  296,  298,  302 
Tresahar,  J.,  265 
Trevelyan,  Francis,  196,  198 
Trevor,  Norman,  286,  303 
Twain,  Mark,  47 
Tyars,  Frank,  218,  219 
Tyler,  Fred,  207 

Valentine,  Sydney,  266,  289 
Vanburgh,  Violet,  181,  300 
Vandenhoff,  George,  16,  17,  50 
Vaughan,  C.  B.,  295 
Vaughan,  Kate,  97 
Vedrennc,  277,  278,  282,  283 
Vernon,  Ida,  151 
Vernon,  W.  H.,  23 
Vestris,  Madame,  34 
Vezin,  Herman,  90 
Volpe,  F.,  206 


Waller,  Lewis,  169,  213,  243,  219 
Wallis,  Gladys,  201 
Wallis,  Mrs.,  119,  241 
Ward,  Fred,  25,  94,  118 
Ward,  Genevieve,  96-99 
Warde,  George,  172,  244 
Waring,  Herbert,  172,  237 
Warner,  Charles,  11,  95,  121,  122, 

143,  144,  237 
Warren,  Joseph,  191 
Warwick,  Lady,  290 
Waterlow,  Margerie,  293 
Waterson,  Henry,  76 
Watson,  Henrietta,  206,  283 
Webb,  Fred,  197 
Webster,  Ben,  81,   151,  230,  266, 

269,  303 
Webster,  Lizzie,  267 
Weguehn,  T.,  293,  295 
Welsh,  James,  208,  211,  226 
Wheeler,  A.  C,  43,  45 
White,  Fisher,  217 
Wigan,  Horace,  44,  74,  75,  76 
Willes,  Eloise,  151 
Wills,  W.  G.,  109-114 
Willard,  E.  S.,  116 
WilHams,  Arthur,  240 
Wilhams,  Barney,  43,  45,  111,  119 
Wilson,  Jay,  272 
Winter,  Wilham,  43,  45,  173 
Witmark,  Jay,  236 
Wontney,  Arthur,  289 
Wood,  C,  197 
Wood,  Mrs.  John,  39,  40 
Worthing,  Frank,  271 
Wright,  Haidee,  305 
Wyndham,  Sir  Charles,  208,  213, 

228,  259-263,  266 
Wyndham,  R.  H.,  25,  28,  29 
Wyndham,  Mrs.,   25,  27,  28,  29, 

38,  41,  73 
Wynne,  Gladys,  290 

Yorke,  G.  M.,  172 

Young,  Brigham,  129,  130,  131 

Zangwill,  Israel,  301 


Richard  Clay  cfc  Sous,  Limited,  London  and  Bungay. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


JUL 


1      1953 


•# 


ci-vi*' 


i^:&- 


JAN  2  31 


»UE  2  WKS  FfiOM 


acLA 


Form  L-9-15»n-2,'36 


im 


2003 

DATE  RECEIVED 


YRl 


«    I 


AT  1 


kT/^-mT  T7^r< 


L9a_.  Barrie3_j^ 


B33A1     Fovtj  years 

on  the 
stage • 


'i,''.)  yW' 


JUL 


•■■■  ;  I  i.  ■<    i*rr- 

7      1953  Nisbet 


iniliiii|nJ[|i|iMII(l|!ll||||li||||||||j|||||||||||| 

3  1158  00489  7434 


in 


UC  SOUTHERM  REGIOr. /■ 


AA    000  412  183    6 


